


the other side of this life

by JustBeforeTheDawn



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Archie Andrews Being an Idiot, Betty Cooper Deserves Better, Betty Cooper Loves Jughead Jones, Demisexual Jughead Jones, F/M, Hiram Lodge Bashing, Nice Alice Cooper (Archie Comics), Protective Jughead Jones, less bullshit amirite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:53:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 87,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23805637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustBeforeTheDawn/pseuds/JustBeforeTheDawn
Summary: If Alice and Hal had really offered to foster Jughead in the series one finale, imagine how different Riverdale would have looked?In which Betty and Jughead face the world together, instead of being ripped apart repeatedly in the name of bad writing, and Riverdale's girls are written with a lot less cruelty.
Relationships: Alice Cooper/FP Jones II, Archie Andrews/Veronica Lodge, Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones, Cheryl Blossom/Toni Topaz
Comments: 371
Kudos: 196





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i always wondered how the rest of the series would have gone if that deleted scene from the first series finale was canon

When the door opens, and Jughead takes the Serpent jacket, Betty is filled with horror.

  
Not the horror of a different time, where Jughead takes the jacket with a smirk, and it fits him like a glove. Instead, Betty is terribly scared, because she knows Jughead very well, and she knows that he is terrified of the Serpents, terrified of the consequences of refusing them. Her boyfriend is a conscientious objector by nature, only stirred to action by something unavoidable like Chuck Clayton threatening Betty, or his father’s arrest.

  
The jacket does not fit Jughead like a glove. It is too broad across the shoulders, sitting oddly on his hips. Jughead is still skinny, undernourished; he does not have the years as a foreman, or the commanding authority that his father had. He looks like a scared child, drowning in the Serpent leather, uncomfortable and out of place. 

  
The Serpents seem satisfied, and slither off into the snowy night. Jughead retreats inside the trailer, and will not meet Betty’s eyes.

  
“Juggie,” says Betty gently, less judging than she was five minutes ago, when the Serpents interrupted their tryst.

  
“I don’t want it,” says Jughead desperately. “I don’t want my father’s life. I don’t want to be a Serpent, I don’t want to end up stuck here in Riverdale, I don’t want to spend the rest of my life in a shitty trailer with no hope of escape, Betty!”

  
“You won’t,” says Betty, darting across the room to cup his jaw in her hands again. She presses a kiss against his lips, tasting Jughead’s miserable tears. They were so open with one another at Pop’s, just a few days ago, so vulnerable. So much has happened in between, she’s not sure she could bear it if they closed off to one another again. Jughead closes off quickly when he is scared, after years of emotional and literal abandonment from his parents.

Jughead’s relationship with his mother is damaged, possibly beyond repair; Betty’s mother is mending, softening, and has offered them a safe place to shelter in the storm that is about to strike Riverdale.

  
“You won’t,” says Betty again. “You’re coming home with me. You’re going to stay at Riverdale High, and we’re going to graduate, and get out of this horrible town that doesn’t deserve you, okay? Your dad told you to keep writing, and that’s what we’ll do.”

  
“Yeah,” says Jughead wetly. “It is. But there’s so much in the way. It feels like everyone except you is against me, sometimes. Does that sound ridiculous?”

  
“No,” says Betty, thinking of Archie’s sudden fit of jealousy, of her mother’s keenness to see Jughead out of Betty’s life, of the Mayor and Principal Wetherbee conspiring to make her and Archie the heroes of their tale, all at the expense of the sullen kid from an ‘inappropriate’ background. “No, I don’t think it does, but it’s both of us against them, now, isn’t it? You and me, and maybe Veronica and Kevin, and maybe Archie once he calms down long enough to pull his head out of his ass.”

  
Jughead giggles, pressing his damp eyes against her, in a miserable parody of the way he’d been devouring her earlier.

  
“Baby,” says Betty, cradling him against her. “Baby, let’s go home.”

Their trip to the trailer was meant to be a brief one, just to pick up Jughead’s remaining belongings (Betty doesn’t know if Alice is aware that Jughead had spent – how long? Months? Years? – living out of a single backpack) and return to the Cooper house. Their interrupted interlude aside, Alice is expecting both of them home shortly, and they make quick work of gathering together Jughead’s stuff. It is mainly books, Jughead having kept very few possessions from his childhood. Betty finds battered copies of the Baxter Brothers, piled up under the bed that used to be Jellybean’s, and Jughead appears lugging a box of cheap paperback classics.

  
“We can come back for most of the books,” he says softly. “All I really want is the pictures.”

  
There are painfully few pictures of his family. No grandparents, a few Gladyses and lots of Jellybeans, and not many FPs. Betty presses a picture of the gap-toothed seven-year-old Jughead that she remembers against her heart, and tells herself that she won’t let him be hurt so badly, ever again.

Alice opens the door to them, and welcomes Jughead inside with a friendly arm that almost, almost, curves into a hug. Jughead accepts the gesture warily, as if he expects the other shoe to drop at any moment. The guest bedroom has already been made up for him, the other side of Betty’s. It is the opposite end of the house from her parents’ room, and Betty wonders if this is a sign of trust in them from Alice.

  
She wonders when they will have time to break that trust. 

  
Jughead drops his bag on the bed with a thump. Alice, Polly and Betty all bustle round, showing him where the drawers and closet spaces are, where he can put his small collection of t-shirts, jeans and Sherpas. Jughead still looks overwhelmed, his hand tightening every so often as he looks at Betty. Betty thinks he wants to hold her hand; but he has always found it difficult to display emotion in front of people (not her; he is so open and sweet with her, even after their argument).

  
Soon, it is late, and they have not eaten. Alice relents, for one of the first times that Betty can remember, and orders pizza.

  
A few months ago, Betty could not have imagined her household looking anything like this. Her mother and father are still brittle, but she thinks there is some new softening to Alice, some much-needed sympathy towards her children. The sips from Alice’s wine glass seem less pointed than they used to be. Hal seems unchanged by the events that nearly destroyed them, munching on a slice of pizza with a beer in front of him, his mind on something else. Polly is massively pregnant, her stomach protruding in front of her at the table, and she shifts uncomfortably. She seems a little better, too, less shattered by the loss of Jason, now that their tragedy has some closure.

  
The biggest change is Jughead.

  
Betty’s boyfriend sits beside her, chewing nervously on his second slice of pizza. Betty knows he could probably have eaten at least one of the pizzas on his own, and come back for more; but he is on his very best behaviour, even more so than that horrible dinner party on the night of Homecoming. He is scared that at any moment, Alice and Hal will change their minds, and rip his sanctuary (and Betty) away from him. He answers any of Alice’s questions intelligently and politely, never talking with his mouth full, always waiting his turn until everyone else has taken a slice of pizza. Betty worries about how desperate he must feel not to risk all of this, and her food feels heavy in her mouth. She puts one hand on his knee, trying to comfort him, and he starts, glancing at her in surprise. She gives him a weak grin.

  
“That’s enough pizza for me, I think,” says Alice calmly. “Hal, your cholesterol.”

  
Hal mumbles something in agreement, and finishes his third slice.

  
“I’d actually like something less greasy,” says Polly, caressing her stomach. “Not sure the twins like pepperoni that much.”

  
“Jughead, dear,” says Alice. “Feel free to finish.”

  
Betty and Jughead stare at Alice in wonder, before Jughead grabs another slice, and tries to eat it slowly. As soon as Alice’s back is turned, to start on the minimal washing up, he tears into the slice ravenously. 

  
Betty’s heart twists with love, for her mother who is finally trying to be kind to the people around her, and for Jughead, who watched his father go to prison and is still here with her, trying desperately to impress her family.

Late that night, Betty sneaks into Jughead’s room. Jughead blinks, and stares at her. He is still awake, reading his battered copy of _The Trial of Joseph K_. 

  
“I’ve had dreams like this,” he whispers incredulously.

  
“Dramatic,” replies Betty, with a tut. She tiptoes over to his bed, and sits beside him. “I just wanted to see you. Are you comfortable?”

  
“Betty,” says Jughead placatingly. “I was sleeping on an air mattress, in a room that smelled like Archie. Before that, I was on some pallets in a closet. Before that… well, it wasn’t exactly comfortable. Trust me when I say this is the most comfortable I’ve ever been.”

  
Betty pushes at his shoulder, and he scoots over, allowing Betty to crawl in beside him. Normally, Betty wouldn’t have anything resembling this kind of bravery, but she remembers the way she felt with him earlier, the easy give and take of their kissing and touching, and she wants to get back to that feeling of love and safety alongside him, even if they don’t do anything now.

  
“Betty,” says Jughead, looking nervous. “Your parents…”

  
“I don’t mind,” says Betty. “I love you. You’ve had a horrible day, I just want to be close to you.”

  
“I love you,” says Jughead desperately. “I’m not sure I can… sex is… that is, I want to, but… after tonight...”

  
“I don’t want to have sex!” protests Betty. “That is, I do, but it’s not the only reason to be close to you. I’m just so happy that you’re here with me, safe, instead of lost somewhere on the other side of town with people who don’t know you or love you like we do.”

  
She chokes on her words, thinking of another night, when Jughead ran away from her, alone, abandoned and lied to by his friends, thinking that his father was a murderer and his mother didn’t love him, crying alone in the trailer until they finally found him.

  
Jughead traces her tears down her face, and kisses her gently, soothing and comforting her. He cries with her, until they are both calm again, and drift off together, safe and warm and wrapped in each other’s arms.

In the morning, something new and dreadful has awakened in Riverdale.


	2. A Kiss Before Dying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jughead and Betty are hurled back into Riverdale's disasters

Jughead wakes slowly, luxuriously. In the last few years, he cannot remember having woken up of his own accord, without drunken fathers, the cold light of a morning in the open air, the need to pre-empt the janitors, or even just Archie waking for his daily run.

  
Instead, Jughead is warm, comfortable, and has the long-forgotten feeling of having had enough sleep. He tries to raise his arms, and realises that Betty is still wrapped up in them, sleeping her own exhaustion away.

  
This is the only luxury he’s ever really wanted for himself; his girlfriend, who somehow has fallen in love with him, secure in his arms, happy and soft and sweet. He nuzzles closer to her, before jerking his hips away in embarrassment.

  
It’s not like morning wood is totally new to him, although it’s been a pretty rare and unexciting occurrence; but the desire to press himself against her and see what happens is new, and he feels horrified when he realises she wouldn’t be awake to consent to it.

  
Betty murmurs, and he realises his panic has woken her. He tries to shush her, stroking her hair and cradling her more gently; but her eyelashes flutter awake, and she gazes at him blearily.

  
“Juggie,” she says, her voice thick with sleep. Jughead kisses the tip of her nose, and wonders when he became so sappy.

  
She wriggles back against him. There is no way she misses the way his erection presses against her ass, and Jughead breathes in sharply.

  
“It’s no problem, Juggie,” says Betty, still sounding pleased and sleepy. “S’good, really.”

  
A door slams down the hall. Betty startles fully awake, up out of Jughead’s arms.

  
“My parents,” she says horrified. “I should be in my room!”

  
Jughead does not point out that she’s the one who fell asleep in his room.

Breakfast is an interesting affair. Betty thinks they’ve got away with it, although Alice offers both of them some tough questioning, just skirting around asking them outright if they’d slept together. Jughead looks as nervous as he did the first time that he came to breakfast, the day before their first kiss. He is clearly trying not to guzzle his pancakes, and Betty thinks again about the weeks of living off concession stand-leftovers and the free food that Pop ‘accidentally’ gave Jughead. The explanation for Jughead's never-ending hunger pains her.

  
It is a funny kind of domesticity.

  
Alice freaks out when she hears about the Serpents appearing at the trailer.

  
“You’d better not be thinking of joining them, Jug-Head,” she snaps. “I will make sure of it! If you think I’m going to shelter a snake in my house-”

  
“No, no,” says Jughead, dropping his cutlery with a clank. It is the first time that he has dared to interrupt Alice, and Betty can see the wide eyes of panic on his face. “No, please, Mrs Cooper, I don’t want to join them, I never wanted it!”

  
“Hmph,” responds Alice grumpily, but she can clearly see the fear on Jughead’s face, and she seems mollified. Betty shuffles her chair closer to Jughead, and leans against him for support. He has gone pale, his Adam’s apple bouncing as he tries to swallow. He does not want to be thrown out of his new sanctuary into a nest of vipers.

  
Betty’s phone buzzes, distracting all of them.

  
“It’s Archie,” she says.

Jughead does not know what to make of Fred’s shooting. Mainly, his reaction is disbelief, that anyone could want to hurt such a good man.

  
A small, nasty bit of him smoulders with resentment, and he hates it. He does not want Archie to lose his father, but he has already lost his own father, in a way. There is more to his anger; even though he knows Fred was only trying to do his best for Jughead, Fred’s rejection still stings. 

  
Fred had been worryingly happy to tar him with the same brush as he’d tarred FP, with far less reason; trouble followed the Joneses wherever they went, he said. Fred seemed to take the same line as the rest of the town, that Jughead’s pre-ordained fate was to fall into the same pit as his father and grandfather, without deserving a hand to pull him out. It seems implausible that the hand that had reached out to rescue Jughead had come from the bitter, judgemental, petit bourgeois Coopers, rather than Fred, who had claimed he loved Jughead like a second son.

  
Jughead does not like the small, nasty bit of him that thinks that, and sits by Archie’s side, wishing helplessly that Fred survives this.

  
Jughead tags along with Archie to the police station, intent on finding out who could have done this, just after they thought they had finally cleared the town of killers. Fred is hanging on to life, and Archie and Veronica are barely hanging on to one another. Jughead has never been more grateful for the solid foundation of his relationship with Betty. He bristles when he hears Keller’s assumption that the shooter was a Southside Serpent, even though he knows it is far from impossible.

  
He mentions it to Betty, as they make plans with Alice to pick the last of his stuff up from the trailer.

  
“The Serpents never ran to that kind of behaviour before,” says Alice, surprising both of them. After all her editorials raving against the Southside, this measured and realistic opinion shocks both of hr charges. “This isn’t their style. Come on, Jughead, if you want your books we should get them before they turn the power off to your trailer.”

  
Tall Boy and one of the young Serpents are waiting inside. They are clearly expecting only a lone teenage boy, rather than the teenage boy clutching his girlfriend’s scarred hand, and the girlfriend’s fearsome mother.

  
“Hello, Tall Boy,” sneers Alice. “Were you lying in wait for this young man? I’m afraid he won’t be available anytime soon, so slither off somewhere else, why don’t you?”

  
Betty has gone white, not remotely expecting her mother’s cool defiance. Tall Boy snarls, but he appears to accept it.

  
“Heard Fred Andrews got shot, and they’re giving us the blame,” he growls. “Thought I could tell FP’s boy here that we knocked a few heads, to see who was drawing attention to us, and none of our boys are ‘fessing up to it. Couple of loudmouths tryna take credit, of course, but none of the Serpents did this.”

  
“How convincing,” says Alice snidely, even though she had expressed the same opinion herself, earlier. “Why don’t you hurry along, _Gerald,_ and I’ll make sure to mention it in the Register?”

  
Tall Boy and the young Serpent leave, but not before the young Serpent has clapped his hand on to Jughead’s shoulder. Jughead flinches, drawing tighter into Betty.

  
“Your place is with the Serpents,” he says, breath hot against Jughead’s cheek. Jughead should be drawn into this world of violent male camaraderie, this toxic mess that offers him a place when his home and his school was ripped away from him, but he remembers Betty’s fingers clutching his own, and even Alice, spitting familiar fire at Tall Boy in his defence.

  
“My place is with Betty,” he says defiantly, although his eyes do not leave the floor. The young Serpent snorts, and slams the trailer door behind him.

The day only gets crazier, with Mrs Blossom half dead from a fire at Thornhill, Archie losing it over the disappearance of Fred’s wallet from Pop’s, and finally, Veronica’s panic over her returning father. Jughead takes his father’s bike, still, but it’s with Alice’s permission, and with a promise that he will learn to ride it properly and safely. It is soon parked in the garage alongside the vintage car that Hal and Betty like to work on at weekends. Betty thinks she might like the new challenge of working on a bike engine. 

  
The best possible news is that Fred wakes up, out of danger. Betty worries that Archie’s illusion of calm is only to hide his inner panic; that, like with Grundy, Archie is severely traumatised, and only barely staying afloat.

  
“Do you think Archie will be okay?” she asks. The light has not come on in the room across from hers, and it is late. This evening, Jughead is in _her_ room, although they are both trying to convince themselves that he will depart for the guest room when the time comes to sleep. He is wrapped around her again, both of them perched in her window seat in front of _Rear Window_. It feels very good to be held and wanted, and Betty wants to regain that comfortable closeness from the morning.

  
“I don’t know,” admits Jughead, refusing to calm her with platitudes. “A few months ago, I would have thought that he could sail through anything without a care, that he’d just be there for his dad, good old reliable Archie. But… all that was before he got molested by a teacher, and all the adults let it pass without consequences, and then pretended it didn’t happen. He's been different since then - just a bit.”

  
“Ugh,” says Betty, resting her head against his chest. She feels a kiss, pressed to the crown of her head. “We should have gone to the police, Jug. You and I both knew better.”

  
“I did,” he admits. His voice is full of remorse. “But he’s… he was my best friend, Betty, how could I break a promise to him? And I was… I was almost scared of him, when I first found out.”

  
“It shouldn’t have been our responsibility, anyway,” says Betty, not entirely wanting to assuage his guilt (or her own), but well aware that the fifteen-year-olds were not the people truly at fault for failing to report Grundy. “None of it should have been our responsibility.”

  
“Hey, Veronica’s dad’s back too.” Jughead wraps his arms tighter around her. “Think maybe he’ll be just as bad of the rest of them? Or, I dunno, maybe a decent parent?"

  
Betty snorts, and nestles into his chest. She is full of fear for all of them, growing up in a place like Riverdale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> man, imagine how much bullshit wouldn't have happened if the writers knew how to write
> 
> literally if they didn't come up with the most convoluted shit nothing much would have happened, and I kinda think that would've been fine


	3. Nighthawks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Black Hood starts his reign of terror across Riverdale, and Jughead and Betty start to cope with their new world.

Betty wakes up, and feels a little bereft. She is not sure why, until she remembers that she fell asleep with Jughead in her bed, and now there is no sign of him in her room. She wriggles, trying to get comfortable again, before remembering that the weekend is over, and it is a school day.

  
It will be the first day that Jughead returns to Riverdale High after his abortive attempt to protect her by moving to Southside. She wonders how they will deal with it. She knows they will probably get some shit from Reggie, although she thinks Cheryl might be… different, after her ordeal.

  
There is a note on her bedside table, neatly folded, with her name in Jughead’s familiar handwriting.

 _Went to get us Pop’s breakfast_ , it says. _Thought we deserved it_.

  
Betty smiles fondly. She wonders what Alice made of her ward’s early exit.

At school, Jughead has very little to show for his trip to Pop’s, except coffee, and a sad little muffin that he shares with Betty (if that isn’t true love, Betty thinks, she doesn’t know what is). Pop is on his last legs, he says miserably. The town is boycotting the Shoppe, and Pop is running out of time to save his business. Archie’s avoidance she can understand; Archie saw his father shot there. 

  
Archie still seems erratic, and she wonders if he is getting the help he needs. 

  
Jughead leaves again shortly afterwards, dejected by the prospect of meeting his father’s court-appointed lawyer.

  
Betty discusses it with Veronica.

  
“I want to save Pop’s for Jug,” she admits, thinking of their careful admissions in a quiet booth, on Jug’s birthday. “He’s lost so much recently, he deserves one good thing.”

  
“Of course, B,” says Veronica. Betty wonders if Veronica has ever dedicated herself to a lost cause like this before, used to the trappings of privilege. Her friend will throw herself into the effort, though, as much for her own desire to avoid her father as for altruism.

  
Jughead returns from his meeting with his father, heartbroken but resigned. His father is going to prison for a long, long time, unless he takes the deal.

  
“The worst thing is,” he whispers, sitting quietly with Betty in her room, “I can’t defend him. This Serpent stuff, refusing to take the deal… He _did_ kidnap Jason. And he _did_ hide the body, Betty. I’m scared. I don’t want to lose my dad, but… He should go to jail, Betty. He was coerced, I guess, but… Betty, I don’t want to hate my dad!”

  
Betty has come up with numerous absurd schemes to help him, but none of them are realistic. She’s afraid, too, that Jughead is right; that in trying to help FP, they will be helping someone who doesn’t want their help, who really _should_ be in jail for the stuff that he’s done. Fatalism is not her customary style, but Jughead was frank with her when she suspected her father, and she owes him the same honesty.

  
“You were right, too, about Archie not sleeping,” says Jughead, changing the subject. “He nearly brained me with a baseball bat when I dropped over there earlier. He’s not coping at all.”

  
“Oh, Arch,” says Betty sadly. “Did you try to talk to him about it?”

  
“Yeah.” Jughead rolls his eyes. “It was like talking to a brick wall. I’m gonna try talking to Fred about it, once he’s well enough. I just hope it won’t be too late, like, after Archie’s done something even stupider than normal.”

  
Betty thinks she should defend their old friend, but Archie is undeniably… impulsive, maybe, is a good word for it.

  
“I’ll try telling Veronica,” she suggests. “We’ve been getting… well, nowhere, with trying to save Pop’s.”

  
“Oh,” says Jughead sadly. “We can’t save everything, Betty. I guess we need to accept the fact that life in Riverdale’s gonna be a bit different from now on.”

  
Betty hugs him closer, wondering how many more things will be ripped away from her boyfriend before they can get out of Riverdale. He has lost so much already, been through things that no sixteen-year-old should be exposed to.

  
So has she. 

  
She thinks, _we deserve a break_.

Betty and Jughead are not the only people who think Archie needs help. Veronica has suggested therapy; even _Reggie,_ King of the Bros, has mentioned it to their friend. Archie does not seem receptive, and Betty wonders what it will take to persuade him.

  
“If we push him, he might push us away,” Jughead worries. “He’s not great about confronting his problems without his fists.”

  
Betty’s boyfriend could hardly be more of a contrast. Where Archie depends on muscles, and speed, and acting before thinking, Jughead tends to use his head, and his words. Betty thinks how ridiculous her childhood fantasies seem now, how unstimulating it would be to have a boyfriend (a one-day husband) who she could hardly talk to. Jughead challenges, pushes her to think harder, and revels in it when she pushes him back.

  
He is wonderful in the Mayor’s office, defending Pop’s, expressing the need for their town to defy the terror striking at it. The Mayor is as brusque and dismissive as ever, even as she looks a little swayed by Jughead and Betty’s arguments. 

  
She is less sympathetic to Jughead’s attempt to plead for his father’s right to a qualified attorney.

  
They sit on the steps of Town Hall, disconsolate.

  
“It isn’t fair,” says Jughead. 

  
“No, it isn’t,” says Betty, twining her fingers with his. “We can try calling Mrs Andrews? It feels like it should be illegal to have someone as incompetent as your dad’s lawyer working on his case.”

  
Jughead snorts, and looks at her fondly.

  
“Maybe we should ask those nuns to intercede with the patron saint of lost causes for us,” he muses, gazing out across the town. Riverdale has changed so much since the start of sophomore year. Betty wonders if she and Jughead have changed, or if they’re just becoming the people they were always meant to be.

  
“It’s funny,” he says, contemplative now, rather than angry. “Even when my world was spinning off its axis, it felt like Pop’s would always be there. It’s been there as long as the town has, you know? There isn’t a person here who didn’t grow up eating Pop Tate’s burgers.”

  
Betty has a flash of inspiration.

Naturally, Cheryl and Josie will not help her. Betty is clad in the ridiculous Vixens practice gear, humbling herself by asking the two queens of their year for their help, but she gets no sympathy.

  
“Absolutely not,” snaps Cheryl. “There’s no way I will allow my Vixens to be associated with that mess, cousin. You two can try your best, but you need to accept that fondness and nostalgia do not make a good basis for a business in today’s economy. Toodles!”

  
“Well, we tried,” says Veronica tiredly. “And I guess she’s head Vixen again. Plus ça change, B.”

  
Betty sighs.

Jughead’s day has gone no better than Betty’s. After his fruitless attempts to get a better lawyer, things take a turn for the worse.

  
Tall Boy lounges outside the trailer. Jughead had only approached it to get some of his father’s ‘paperwork’, such as it was; but when he emerges, the towering Serpent is waiting for him, Hot Dog’s leash wrapped around his meaty hand. Jughead tries not to cower; he has no Alice to defend him this time, no excuse to avoid the Serpents’ overtures.

  
“Your old man wants the Snake Charmer,” Tall Boy asserts, giving him an address that Jughead knows to be a dodgy tattoo parlour. “He needs a better lawyer.”

  
Jughead agrees, and takes the address. 

  
A tiny bit of him wants to head straight for this Peabody person. A bigger bit of him remembers that Tall Boy definitely doesn’t have his best interests at heart, and he just wants to coil Jughead tighter into the Serpents’ grasp.

  
Instead he goes home, and tells Alice about it.

  
“Penny Peabody is a nasty piece of work,” Alice tells him coolly. Hal looks uninterested, peacefully reading an article about a death in Greendale. “You did the right thing, Jughead. I’ll put a call into Mary Andrews, see if she can’t get FP a better lawyer. But,” she puts her chopping knife down, looks pained, and refuses to meet Jughead’s eyes, “Jughead, I know you’re intelligent enough to realise that there’s not much that we can do for your father. This town doesn’t like the Southside Serpents, and they have… good reason not to.”

  
Jughead nods sadly.

Betty comes home a little later than Jughead, bringing the news that Cheryl has refused to help her with Pop’s. A thought had crossed her mind, that perhaps Cheryl could help with FP’s case too; but actually, she concludes, FP had only ever added to the remaining Blossoms’ pain, and they do not owe the Serpent King anything.

  
“I don’t want to put Cheryl through more, even if she’s reverted to type,” says Jughead, when she mentions the idea to him. “She really refused to help with Pop’s?”

  
Betty sighs.

  
“I can’t blame her,” she says. “I can’t blame anyone for being afraid. Did you know, they found Ms. Grundy dead? Murdered? I asked Mom if she thought it might have anything to do with the guy in the black hood that tried to kill Fred, and she said she thinks it might, even if Sheriff Keller doesn’t.”

  
“Sheriff Keller doesn’t?” Jughead dropped his maths homework on the bed. They spend all of their time in Betty’s room when they are in the Cooper house, with the door an Alice-decreed foot open. They sit cross-legged on the bed, hands often finding a comfortable place on each other’s legs. Betty finds that she likes having Jughead in the house to do homework with her, likes having a study partner to bounce ideas off. It is the same as their dynamic from the Blue and Gold, but transferred seamlessly into a private space. She thinks she could get used to it very quickly.

  
“No,” she says. “And I don’t know how much he’ll like having us tell him a theory, considering how much we embarrassed him by finding Jason’s murderer before him.”

  
“Maybe we’ll get lucky again,” suggests Jughead. “Maybe my own Nancy Drew will catch a second murderer in a year, and I can write some schlocky true crime book about it. Or, like, a thinly fictionalised self-insert.”

  
“Only if you’re the Ned to my Nancy,” says Betty, pressing a kiss to his lips. “Actually, I don’t think it’s our turn to solve this. I’d rather try to save Pop’s, keep some little bit of lightness in this horrible town.”

In the end, Betty’s retro night is fun even without the Vixens, and lots of them turn up (against the orders of a fuming Cheryl, who is finally mollified by a few free cherry phosphates) of their own accord. Even though the Serpents turn up, their eyes fixed on Jughead and Betty, Pop’s makes enough money to stay afloat - with a generous contribution from Mr Lodge. 

  
Betty has already met him, though Jughead is not important enough to Veronica to warrant an introduction yet. Neither of them get a good vibe from him.

  
“Maybe we’re biased,” says Betty. Her feet ache after a night in roller skates, and she wonders if she and Jughead are comfortable enough yet for him to rub her feet. Jughead is sometimes weird about touching, likes to cover himself in layers so he doesn’t have to brush bare skin with people he isn’t emotionally close to. Her feet are clean, but he might not appreciate the imposition – or the intimacy.

  
(She does not know that Jughead is equally torn, that he is struggling with his own, unfamiliar urges, that the idea of being the person to comfort her physical aches is growing in appeal daily.)

  
“Against the guy who went to prison for white collar crimes that affected thousands of ordinary people, like Ethel’s dad?” Jughead snorts, and his tone drips with insincerity. “God forbid, Betty, you know me. I’ll defend any capitalist’s God-given right to exploit the foolish proletariat.”

  
“He is kind of… intense,” admits Betty. “And… how do you feel about V’s dad getting out, just when your dad is getting put away?”

  
“Oh, I’m seething,” says Jughead offhandedly, “It’s the same old story. Clifford Blossom would have ended up with exactly the same thing, in the end, if he hadn’t… done what he did. No, Betty, Jason deserves justice. I’m just angry that my dad’s a cheap scapegoat and wealthy Mr Lodge is exonerated, even if it’s pretty predictable.”

  
“You’re very philosophical.”

  
“I need to be.” Jughead sighs, and beckons her closer. Betty complies, delighted.

  
In the time that they have spent living together, they have only ended up spending one night sleeping separately. 

  
Maybe he wouldn’t mind so much if she asked him to rub her feet after all. 

  
“If I’m not philosophical about all of this,” he says, voice deliberately level, “if I don’t stick to the path of least resistance, I’m scared about how angry I’ll get. I’m going to keep fighting, Betty, but I want to do it the right way.”

  
Betty rests her head on his shoulder.

  
“I love you, you know,” she says. “I think you’re being brave.”

  
“Well, I think you’re brave too, and you deserve every bit of thanks for saving Pop’s for the ingrates of Riverdale.”

  
“And?”

  
“And I love you.” Jughead kisses her forehead. “I’m hoping we were wrong. I think Ms. Grundy and the Pop’s shooting were two different, horrible things, and we’re just scared kids looking for patterns where there are none – especially Arch. I think we should just let it be over, leave it to the police, and concentrate on the things that are really important.”

  
“Well,” says Betty. “Even great detectives can be wrong sometimes.”

  
They both share a sigh of relief, seeing Archie heading off to his bed at last. They do not notice Dilton Doiley slinking away into the night. They do not hear gunshots, ringing out across Fox Forest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 4x17 is the 10th lowest rated tv episode on imdb ever
> 
> i'm screaming
> 
> imagine your shitty writing backfiring that hard after you've mocked all the fans for finding it dodgy and sexist 
> 
> hehehehehehehehehe
> 
> we all know the show ended at 4x16


	4. The Watcher in the Woods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Riverdale slides further into madness, Betty and Jughead try to find ways to cope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm refusing to re-watch the episodes on Netflix in case it gives the show money, so let me know if I've written something that makes no sense
> 
> like canon amirite

Kevin has found his second dead body, in the space of as many months. He tells them all about it in the student lounge, his eyes wide with delight. Betty knows her friend is a gossip, knows he revels in being the centre of attention; but she wonders what effect this will have on him.

Of course, unlike Jason, Moose was only dead for a few seconds, and should be making a full recovery; but Kevin used to hook up with Moose, however messy that situation was, and Betty can’t imagine what finding your ex and his girlfriend covered in blood in a car would be like.

(Not that she has an ex, or even an ex-hook-up. She only has Jughead, and her brain shies away from the idea of finding him hurt, or dead. She cannot bear to think of it, and unconsciously moves closer to him, wanting to protect him.)

Archie continues to push the line that the attempted murders are connected.

“I don’t think so, Arch,” says Betty authoritatively. 

She really wants to be right.

Veronica invites them to meet her father, and they all accept. Neither Betty nor Jughead like the Matchlerette very much, especially Jughead; but Betty will tolerate it for Veronica’s sake, and Jughead will tolerate it for Betty.

Jughead kisses her sweetly, before he lopes off to a different class from her. Betty wonders when they became one of _those_ couples, flaunting their relationship in front of the whole year; but she remembers that he was nearly torn away from them, nearly sent off to the other side of town to cope with the notorious Southside High, and she thinks that they have earned a little PDA.

“Kevin,” she says. “Why were you really at Fox Forest last night?”

“I was cruising,” he tells her defiantly. “I’ve been lonely, since Joaquin left. And Joaquin was… well, he wasn’t who I thought he was, and I don’t want to look for people on the internet, Betty. No-one is who you think they are on there.”

“Don’t you think it would be safer not to?” asks Betty. “Please, just while there’s a killer on the loose, Kevin, don’t go out to Fox Forest at night. It’s not safe.”

She is not sure if he is listening to her. She knows she cannot compare her situation to his; her boyfriend didn’t fake their whole relationship for information, didn’t have to leave her to escape criminal charges. 

She wonders if they did the right thing, letting Joaquin leave. Maybe FP only coerced him into it, but Joaquin still lied and hid evidence about a teenage boy’s murder.

In another life, Jughead would be attending Southside High right now. Instead, he’s in English Lit, and since his life has been more stable, he’s slowly rising in the teachers’ estimation. It’s an incredible feeling, really; he’s used to admiring Betty and her terrific grades, but it’s been years since he knew what it felt like to be appreciated for his talent.

He expresses this to Betty, as they head over to Veronica’s for the evening.

“I always knew you were good, Jug,” his girlfriend says cheerfully. “Remember, I recruited you for the Blue and Gold, not the other way round. I remember the stories you used to write when we were kids, and I knew I had to have you on my staff.”

“Oh, so I’m your Girl Friday?”

“The Rosalind Russell to my Cary Grant,” chirps Betty. “I can see the resemblance.”

He laughs, and teases her about terrible Transatlantic accents.

Their good humour disappears shortly after entering the Pembrooke. 

Hiram Lodge seems keen on encouraging Archie’s obsession with the shooter. Although Jughead knows he and Betty were the ones who insisted on investigating Jason’s death, he can’t help but feel that Archie is fragile at the moment, and suggesting private security and vigilantism will lead him down a dangerous path. He resolves to talk with Fred about it, in the hope that Fred can talk some sense into his son.

Hiram sizes Jughead up, when he finally gets around to greeting him. Jughead does not mind being bottom of the pecking order - neither Veronica’s ‘bestie’, nor her boyfriend. As merely ‘bestie’s boyfriend’ or ‘boyfriend’s bestie’, Jughead is happy to be merely tangential to Veronica.

He cannot, however, resist a sly dig at Hiram.

“I think you know my father, FP Jones?” he says, deliberately innocent. Hiram does not blink.

“Ah, yes,” the man says. “A good man. Values family.”

Jughead resists the urge to snort. 

_He valued the money you paid him to trash my drive-in,_ he thinks _. He valued the opportunity to distract me and Betty from the investigation_.

He slumps next to Betty, and wishes they were anywhere but here.

Later that night, they are facing one another in his bed. One of these days, Hal or Alice is going to notice, and there will be hell to pay. Jughead is well aware that he cannot get used to how well he sleeps with Betty in the same bed, for fear of abusing the Coopers’ hospitality, and losing his place here. On the way to the Pembrooke, some of the junior Serpents he recognised from the Whyte Wyrm roared past on their bikes (the pink-haired girl, the big angry one with the neck tattoo, and a new kid), and he remembers that if he is not careful, he will be spending his days with them trying to seduce him into the Serpents. He will not sit on his own bed, in this house that increasingly feels like a home, discussing _Fahrenheit 451_ with Betty. He is more likely to spend his evenings inadvertently recreating the bonfire scenes, with a bottle of cheap beer in his hand.

“Do you think Hermione and Veronica seemed on edge?” asks Betty. He decides not to tell her about his fears, and thinks that he must persuade her to leave the room tonight.

“I do,” he says, “although I think it’s only to be expected. He was in prison, not just on some kind of sabbatical, so they’re going to have a lot of adjusting to do.”

Betty strokes his face.

“So do you,” she says. “How are you doing at the moment? With your dad, and staying at Riverdale High?”

Jughead thinks for a moment.

“I’m doing okay,” he says finally, and presses a kiss against her palm. “I mean, I think about it, all the time. And I was thinking about it tonight, about what Hiram paid my d- FP to do.”

“Yes, I thought you were.” 

He does not say anything after that. Betty watches him for a moment, before letting it drop, and pressing a sleepy kiss to his lips.

 _Tomorrow,_ he thinks _. Tomorrow I’ll try to break myself of this habit_.

It does not go unnoticed by Betty that Kevin failed to show up at the Pembrooke last night.

“Were you cruising?” she snaps, and immediately winces at her harsh tone. Kevin registers her disapproval, and blows up at her in somewhat justified anger. 

Cheryl, eavesdropping as ever, takes her aside after their somewhat public spat.

“Kevin thinks he’s very unattractive,” the redhead clarifies, after Betty has worried about Kevin’s sudden interest in anonymous hook-ups in the midst of a town disaster. “His boyfriend broke his trust horribly, and he feels worthless. He wants to feel validated.”

Betty wonders when Cheryl got so understanding of her fellow students. She was certainly horrible to Betty, when Betty was insecure about her body. Maybe Cheryl always understood, and used it to drag people down; but after everything that happened in September, she is finally using those powers for good. 

Betty wonders if one day, she and her cousin might come to be friends. At least now, they are allies.

When she returns to the house, there is uproar.

At first, Betty is afraid that her disappointingly innocent sleeping habits have been discovered, as Jughead is sitting on the coach looking scared; but she soon realises that Alice is freaking out about something decidedly worse.

The letter from the Black Hood sits on their dining table, the envelope deceptively plain. Fred’s wallet and Mrs Grundy’s sunglasses sit beside it.

 _Oh no,_ thinks Betty _. Archie was right_.

Jughead thinks that maybe Fred was right; maybe trouble does follow his family wherever he goes, and the Coopers are being punished for their philanthropy towards him. Logic tells him that he is ridiculous, but insecurity is a hard thing to overcome. 

Betty sits beside him on the coach. He unfolds her hands silently, taking them in his own so she cannot curl her nails into the palms.

That night, again, they curl up together. This time, it is a shelter against the world outside, which seems determined to tear into their sanctuary.

Hal and Alice take the letters, and the wallet and glasses, to Sheriff Keller. Hal drops Betty and Jughead off at school by car, instead of letting them walk.

“You have a good day, sweetie,” says Hal, his eyes intense. He looks up at Jughead, his face unreadable. “You too, Jughead.”

Jughead wonders if he should salute, and settles for what he hopes is a manly nod.

“I’m heading to the Farm, and you can’t stop me!” says Polly, her suitcase already packed.

“No,” protests Betty. “Poll, you’re safer here-”

“I’m an unwed mother, carrying my murdered cousin’s twins, Betty, and this guy is targeting ‘sinners’!” Polly slams her bedroom door. “I’m practically the poster child for sin!”

Betty pleads with her; she only just got her sister back, she doesn’t know what the Farm is, Polly is still barely an adult. Alice throws her hands up in exasperation, and disappears inside to find moral support from Hal.

Polly’s mind is made up. She has two other lives to think of, beyond her own.

“You should be careful too, Betty,” she says, swinging her suitcase into her car. “This Black Hood person is a really crazy guy. He probably won’t be too keen on you sleeping with your boyfriend at fifteen!”

Betty stares at her in total panic.

“Don’t worry, I haven’t told Mom or Dad.” Polly rolls her eyes. “I’m just saying, the Black Hood has clearly targeted us, and you’ll need to watch it.”

When Jughead appears, she conveys Polly’s message to him. Jughead looks tired, and slumps on to the front steps. 

“I think I knew we had to stop,” he says, “as little as I want to.” Betty sits next to him, and they hold hands in silence.

“Do you think we should be trying to find this guy?” Jughead says suddenly. “I mean, we do have a better track record with Riverdale murderers than Kevin’s dad.”

“Jug,” says Betty, as if the same hadn’t occurred to her. “We need to be careful.”

“I thought you liked me reckless,” he replies, with a surprisingly confident smile. He cups her jaw, and pulls her in for a kiss.

The kiss turns surprisingly heavy, and Betty wonders if they should be doing it somewhere more privately. She can’t seem to bring herself to stop.

“Ahem!”

They split apart abruptly, fearing her parents. Instead, just like at the trailer, it is a Southside Serpent.

She can’t be much older than them, all ripped tights and pink hair. She is clearly here for Jughead, although her eyes sometimes flicker to Betty with something approaching contempt.

“You’re the Serpent King’s son, right?” she says. “Forsythe Pendleton Jones the Third?”

“It’s _Jughead,”_ corrects Jughead, reluctant.

“Whatever, Jones. I’m Toni Topaz.”

She says it as if it should mean something to him. Jughead looks bewildered.

“Anyway,” says Toni, after she has received no response, “Serpent council sent me here to let you know you might have a bit of a problem.”

“What kind of problem?” asks Betty. Toni gives her an appraising look.

“A Ghoulie kind of problem.”

Betty and Jughead exchange a look of confusion.

"What are Ghoulies?" whispers Betty.

"I thought it was a British word for... uh, certain parts of male anatomy," replies Jughead.

“They’re another gang,” says Toni, rolling her eyes. “They had a few problems with your daddy, Jones, and we think a couple of them might like to make a name for themselves by taking it out on his kid. Call you the Serpent Prince.”

“I’m not a Serpent anything,” snaps Jughead.

“You could think about it,” says Toni. “If you were one of us, we could protect you. Better than these Northsiders, anyway. You’re a Serpent by blood. It means a family, forever.”

 _I’m his family_ , thinks Betty sourly, but something tells her an interjection from Jughead’s Northside girlfriend will not help anything.

“No, thank you.” Jughead’s voice is brittle.

Toni snorts.

“You might change your mind,” she asserts, and saunters away with a flick of her thick hair. Betty watches her go, envious of the girl’s self-assurance.

“Not a chance,” says Jughead. “I’ve seen what joining the Serpents does to people, Betty.”

Betty nods, and they head inside. She fumes inwardly that yet another moment has been ruined for her.

Cheryl texts her to meet her at Fox Forest, and Betty sneaks out. Jughead is in the guest room, apparently determined to follow Polly’s advice, and Betty tries not to resent his desire to keep them safe. He seems more than a little freaked out by their encounter with the female Serpent, with how easily she found the Coopers’ house.

She and Kevin fight about it.

“You have no idea what it’s like!” Kevin rails against her, and he’s right. Betty is ashamed that she tried to bring his self-respect into it. She really doesn’t know what Kevin has been through as the only out kid at school, and she feels patronising and stupid, with her unconscious straight privilege and her self-righteousness.

She still maintains that it’s too dangerous for Kevin to be out here at night though, meeting strange men, when one of them could very well be the Black Hood (god knows he seems like the type to hate the illicit hook-up spot). She is going to do what she failed to do with Ms. Grundy, and tell Kevin’s dad. She is going to be a snitch and Kevin might hate her for it, but at least Kevin will be alive to hate her.

When she gets home, she knocks gently on Jughead’s door. He opens it, and beckons her in, fear and exhaustion clear on his face.

“We should stop,” he says, but his hands pull her gently into his bed. Betty knows he is right, just as she feels she is right about Kevin. She is sacrificing a friendship to keep her friend safe, and she should sacrifice the comfort of a shared sleep to keep herself and Jughead safe.

“Are you scared, Jug?” she asks, seriously.

“Of course,” he says tiredly. “I’m scared of the Black Hood. I’m scared that my dad has made me, and by extension you and your family, a target. God, I’m so tired of Riverdale, Betty, and the only thing that makes me feel better is you. How are you?”

“I’m afraid,” she admits. “I’m afraid I’ve ruined my friendship with Kevin, and that you’ll pull away from me through some misguided notion of protecting me – don’t think you haven’t done it before, Jughead Jones, remember my locker? And you ran off to Southside High like a shot? I’m afraid Polly won’t come back. I’m afraid Riverdale’s going to spin off its axis, and we’ll all go with it.”

Jughead pulls her against his chest. She nuzzles into him, enjoying the clean smell of his soap, and the warm rise and fall of his chest against hers.

“I guess we’ll have to be scared together.”

In the morning at school, Kevin is not talking to her. Betty was expecting this.

What she was not expecting is the video that Jughead shows her and Veronica. 

Apparently, Archie has gone insane, and convinced the shirtless young men of Riverdale High to form a fascist vigilante group. 

They should have talked to Fred about therapy before now, but they were distracted.

Jughead is giggling wildly, cracking jokes about semi-fascist pornography. Betty scowls at him.

“Oh, Archie,” says Veronica, rubbing her forehead. “What the absolute fuck?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the serpents being into legacies and blood and whatnot is weird, right? I know in later episodes it's meant to be to do with the Uktena, but... that's dropped three seconds later, and is shoehorned in bizarrely, and it's... well, it made me a little uncomfortable. like, yeah jughead shouldn't have written that article and appropriated a historical massacre for his crusade; but the writers did sorta the same thing, using it for momentary drama and then not including any actual native American characters for more than one scene? it was weird? it felt cheap? and then they dropped it? ahh, this show, man, why were we watching? 
> 
> but for some reason they really wanted jughead in (did they beat him up in this episode, not the ghoulies? I always thought that was implied, to scare him into wanting their protection), so that hasn't changed, just because it's harder for them to get hold of him.
> 
> edit: yet more whingeing about 4x17 - they promoted it as really romantic, right, and they are so thrown by the fact that 2020 audiences are like 'that ain't it bro'. like, they're so fucking thrown by the audience not liking cheating. what world are they living in? fuckin crazy, man. ain't no-one here for that. 
> 
> but I feel like we're all idiots because we accepted the deeply dodgy portrayal of predatory black man chuck, and psycho lesbian Cheryl, and romantic nonce Grundy, and carried on with the show regardless. we knew they had some dodgy fuckin ideas up in here. why did it take them destroying (white, straight, middle class) betty's character for us to all nope out? 
> 
> escapism can only go so far and I think we let a lot of shit slide in the name of seeing bughead solve mysteries.


	5. The Town that Dreaded Sundown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Betty and Jughead work together to solve a new mystery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can I just say, to anyone still watching canon Riverdale, please consider not watching 4x18? or at least just not giving them the viewing figures? the writers have been so horrible to their faithful audience, they don't deserve our views, regardless of what character-destroying nonsense they eventually churn out. 
> 
> here are some memories of better times (as if; the series hasn't been good since series one tbh)

Jughead swoops through Riverdale Public Library on a mission. For years, he’s haunted this place, spending weekends dozing in here when he didn’t have a place to stay, comforted by Kerouac and Salinger and all the other pretentious authors that he idolised when he didn’t know any better. Now, instead of his customary lazy stroll through the bookshelves, he’s racing through the place, grabbing any book that looks even slightly relevant.

He drops a pile of books about serial killers on the desk in front of Mrs Paroo, who looks at him suspiciously.

“It’s a school project,” he says defensively. Luckily, Mrs Paroo has seen hundreds of students researching stranger things over the years, and she stamps his books with only eighty percent of her previous suspicion.

She has seen Archie’s Red Circle video. Jughead is tempted to pretend he has never met Archie.

Back at the Cooper house, he shows Betty his haul in secret. She puts a finger to her lips, and gestures at Alice, who is having a bitter argument with Hal about something. She looks up at Jughead as he enters, guilt clouding her features.

“Mom’s made a really clever decision,” says Betty bitterly. “You want to tell Jughead what you wrote about the Southside, in the Register today? About you following Mayor McCoy’s lead?”

“It’s the truth,” mutters Alice, but he thinks she is lying to herself.

“You’re antagonising everyone!” shouts Betty. “Northside, Southside… we should be helping each other, not turning on each other!”

“The Monsters Are Due on Maple Street,” mumbles Jughead. He has not seen Alice’s articles, but he has little doubt about what she’s written, even as she fosters a Southsider. While his heart is with Betty and Archie on the Northside, he can’t bring himself to justify this condemnation of the poor and the disenfranchised of Riverdale. Betty clasps his hand supportively, and they take their leave, retreating to her room to work on homework and novels.

That night, they manage to sleep apart for the first time in a week. When Jughead wakes up without a warm, soft Betty curled up against him, he wants to cry.

Betty is in a bad mood. She knows it’s ridiculous, that she and Jughead are doing the right thing by trying not to sleep in the same bed, under her parents’ roof; but she resents it, and she feels off-kilter, even after her boyfriend kisses her under her ear at the breakfast table.

“I missed you,” he whispers, ignoring Alice’s glare. She holds his hand as they make their way through breakfast, both of them sleep-deprived and grumpy. Alice lectures Betty for letting Polly go, tells her that she is only trying to protect her. Betty snaps back; Jughead stays silent. She is grateful that her boyfriend _sometimes_ knows how to hold his tongue, repaying her favour from yesterday, with Toni.

“You make me out to be the monster, when all I’m trying to do it protect you!” cries Alice.

Perhaps Alice is right; but her protection _smothers_ Betty.

The other architect of Riverdale’s new tension is at school, unapologetic and determined.

“No, I talked to Dad, I’ve taken the video down,” says Archie. “But I don’t think I was wrong to do it, though, Dad thinks it makes me a target but someone’s got to send a message to this guy, y’know?”

“Not you, though, Archie, you’re fifteen!” says Jughead. With the mess in his own life, he worries that he has let his tentative friendship with Archie slide too far, hasn’t been the steadying influence that he used to be. Their dynamic changed too much over the summer, has been damaged again by Archie’s dubious reaction to Jughead’s relationship with Betty, although Jughead wants to do the work to mend their breach.

“So? We solved a murder!”

“But…” Jughead trails off. It is hypocritical of him, since he and Betty are trying to research serial killers in their spare time. “You shouldn’t be antagonising this guy, Arch! That’s not investigating, that’s… bear-baiting!”

“Jug,” says Archie angrily. “You let me do things my way, okay?”

Jughead stares at him, remembering when he’d confronted Archie about Grundy, and he’d been afraid that Archie would hurt him. 

“He’s so angry, Betty,” he says. They sit together in the Blue and Gold, the familiarity comforting to him. They have not done this enough since finding Jason’s killer.

“You said he’s talked to Fred already?” Betty drops her head into her hands. “Veronica’s trying to get through to him, but I’m not sure it’s working.”

“We should have seen this coming,” says Jughead. “We’ll just have to, I don’t know, support Fred. He’s the only person who seems to be getting through to him. I’m just worried that, with your mom and the video and everything… It’s all going to get worse.”

Betty nods. She feels tired. She can’t remember the last time she felt like there was a way out of all of this, away from the impending implosion of Riverdale.

“Oh, we got some mail!” she says, trying to sound cheerful. It is rare that their little newspaper office gets letters, and she hopes this might be some kind of distraction.

It is not.

 _You inspire me,_ the killer writes _. I am doing this for you. Only you can solve this cypher_.

Betty cannot feel.

She can't think, she can't hear, she’s only vaguely aware of Jughead trying to talk to her, to hold her hands, to pry her nails out of her palms.

 _This is my fault,_ her brain says absently _. Fred, Moose, Mrs Grundy, this is their blood on my hands_.

“Betty?”

Kevin stands at the door, looking nervous. 

“Kevin!” she says brightly. She is not sure she’s ever been happier to see him.

This is a distraction. The letter can wait until she has more equilibrium. Jughead has already snatched it out of her sight, hiding it behind his back.

“I’ll give you a minute,” he says, and darts away.

“Don’t go anywhere with that!” shouts Betty. Jughead shakes his head, and shoves his headphones on for a brief loiter in the corridor.

Kevin forgives her. Of course he does; while he often seems more attached to the glamourous Veronica, he is still her best friend, who she can confide in. He understands she wanted to protect him, as much as she went about it clumsily.

Oh. She understands Alice a little better now.

Jughead re-enters as she beckons him, holding the letter and cypher gingerly. She, Jughead and Kevin pore over the letter.

“We need to tell my dad,” says Kevin. Jughead nods reluctantly.

“No,” says Betty. “People should be concentrating on the cypher, not the letter-”

“Betty,” says Kevin gently. “Remember what we just talked about? This is for your own safety.”

Betty looks to Jughead for support, but he looks her directly in the eyes, communicating wordlessly that Kevin is right. She wants to stamp her foot like a child, but resists the urge.

They go to Kevin’s dad, Betty reluctant and in a worse temper than before. Jughead and Kevin are more calm, taking point on telling Sheriff Keller. He calls Alice, who cries and says that it’s her fault, that the killer is trying to scare her daughter because he’s been scared by Alice’s articles.

“He’s specific about _me,_ Mom,” Betty says, “my speech at the Jubilee.”

She remembers how proud she felt, watching Jughead applaud, watching everyone applaud. No Serpents, no Black Hood, no Veronica bickering with her parents.

Yeah, that was the last time she felt truly happy, and the Black Hood has taken all of her pride and joy in that speech away from her, says he’s used it to justify murder and cruelty.

Jughead tries to take her hand, but she brushes him away. He looks hurt, and shoves his hand back into his pocket.

“I’ve already published the cypher in the Register,” says Alice. “The whole town should get the chance to work on it.”

“Not the letter, Mom,” pleads Betty.

“No, Betty,” replies Alice, scowling. “Believe it or not, I wouldn’t dream of doing that to you.”

They all go home angry. Betty sits on her bed, knowing that her anger at Jughead not backing her up is unwarranted, that he can’t understand her fears of being the cause of this.

She looks at the door longingly, wishing that Jughead would come in to talk to her. She knows she hurt his feelings earlier, too, but she has too much pride to be the first one to cave.

It will be another sleepless night for her.

It isn’t. She wakes up feeling oddly fresh, contrary to the old adage that you should never go to bed angry. She hasn’t slept enough, exactly, but she feels like she got enough rest to sort some of her tangled thoughts out, and see how they can fight back – without resorting to vigilantism, or spewing hate at the Southside.

She bounces into Jughead’s room. Her boyfriend is bleary, for once not delighted by her presence, but she presses a kiss against his lips, and he seems to cheer a little. His hair is thick and greasy, standing on end, and he is clad only in a t-shirt and boxers. Betty wonders if she could cheer him up further by getting equally undressed, but she thinks using sex would be manipulative while they’re in a… not a fight, a tiff maybe? And that’s only if Jughead could be manipulated through sex. Betty knows her boyfriend isn’t like Archie or Reggie, isn’t really tempted by the thought of a quick blow-job or a hand cupping him through his shorts. 

It’s not like she hasn’t wondered how he’d react to it, though.

“I thought we could do research on the cypher together!” she says brightly. “You went and got all those books, we can work together, with Kevin, or maybe Archie and Vee as well! We can have a code-breaking party!”

“Sure,” says Jughead reluctantly. “Will your mom allow it?”

“She can’t exactly stop us, since she published the cypher for the whole town to see.” Betty sighs. “And I should- Yesterday, when you-”

“Betty, I should apologise,” says Jughead, rubbing his eyes. “I’m not going to apologise for taking the letter to the Sheriff, you know how little I think of him, but I’m sorry I didn’t try harder to talk to you about it, Betty, I’m just scared for you. First those Gorlies or whatever, and now this? I just… I just want you to be safe.”

Betty strokes his face. There are so many reasons she’s grateful that her boyfriend isn’t like Reggie, or even Archie.

“I’m sorry, too,” she says. “I should have understood, it’s just… I’m scared too, Jug.”

“Thought we agreed to be scared together,” says Jug, but his kiss takes all bite out of his words. 

School is, yet again, odd. Kevin is completely on-board, delighted by the idea of turning their frightening situation into a party; but Archie and Veronica are in their own little world. 

“It’s a movement, with style and panache,” Veronica decrees, handing out Red Circle t-shirts all over the school. Betty takes one with a pained smile, and decides she’ll literally never wear it. Cheryl seems to be delighted to participate, with the other Vixens following her lead. Well, at least the t-shirt was red.

That evening, it is only her, Kevin and Jughead on her sofa at home. Alice approves; the sheriff’s son is one of the few friends that Alice truly approves of, and she occasionally drops in to offer her thoughts on the cypher.

They don’t get anywhere, but it is fun, the kind of fun that Betty’s life has been sorely lacking of late.

A warmth suffuses Jughead’s bones when he wakes up, and finds that Betty is in bed with him, gently stroking the arm that is wrapped around her. 

Whoops, he thinks guiltily, and pulls her closer. She hasn’t minded previously when he’s been pressed against her, and after their fight, he wants to stay close to her. Betty smirks against his arm, and wiggles closer. It feels so good to have their bodies pressed together (so good, much better than Jughead had pictured in his vague imaginings before he fell in love with Betty), but he wants to get closer, and when he re-adjusts, his hand somehow slips up her sleep shirt onto soft, giving bare skin.

Betty inhales sharply, and her hand wraps around his. He wonders if she will push it further up her top, or below the waistband of her shorts. He realises, to his astonishment, that he wouldn’t mind either way.

He’s excited.

“Betty!”

Alice’s voice echoes down the landing. They spring apart, suddenly sitting six feet apart on the bed, cypher books in their hands.

“Hey mom,” says Betty coolly. “Oh! I’m sorry, we were up early, so we shut the door so our voices didn’t wake you.”

Alice appears to accept the explanation. She is being delicate with Betty, since the letter.

“Breakfast in twenty, kids,” she says, and retreats from Jughead’s room. Betty sighs.

“We need to be more careful,” she says. Jughead nods, with a painful pang in his heart.

“Come on, Nancy Drew,” he says, recalling Betty’s favourite books from their childhood. “School calls.”

“Oh!” Betty gasps. “Jughead, you’re brilliant!”

She kisses him again, and leaps to her feet.

They don’t have time to get the Nancy Drew codebreaking book until the evening, Alice totally unwilling to let them run an errand before school. They make a run to the library the moment that school ends.

“Your school project must be awfully strange, Mr Jones,” says Mrs Paroo.

They translate it in the library, as a storm rages outside. Betty remembers the day that she and Jughead went to find Jason’s car, when he kissed her for the first time and surprised her in the best way possible. 

“The town hall!” Betty says. “We’re so stupid, not realising that’s what he meant!”

“We aren’t stupid, he’s insane,” retorts Jughead. “Come on, while we still have time!”

Together, they race through the night to the town hall. Inside, the debate has descended into chaos; Fred Andrews is on his feet to defend the Southside, facing a wall of self-satisfied Northside snobs, apparently fuelled by Alice’s article. The author herself is seated quietly, looking torn.

“Everybody needs to leave right now!” yells Betty as they storm in.

“The Black Hood is coming here,” adds Jughead, gesturing at the room. “This is his next target!”

The townsfolk look around in horror. Betty wonders how many of them are afraid, concealing ‘sins’ that the Black Hood will try to punish them for.

“What do you mean, the Black Hood’s coming here?” demands Alice. 

“It’s the cypher, it says he’s coming to the town hall,” says Betty.

The lights go off. 

Jughead grabs her hand, and this time she clutches him back like it can protect them. She drags him over to the wall, and yanks on the fire alarm.

Scared Riverdalians spill out into the storm. Across the town, a gunshot echoes into the night.

Later that night, Jughead thinks he and Betty deserve a respite from their attempts to disentangle during sleep. They prepare for bed in her room, no pretence of sleeping apart. He snuggles into her, and she kisses him softly.

Her phone rings.

“Ugh,” says Betty exhaustedly. “I’m not answering that.”

“Maybe it’s Archie, explaining what the hell he’s been up to.” Jughead is loathe to ruin the tranquillity of their little nest, but he worries about Archie. “Or Veronica. Her parents were at the town hall, you saw? But she wasn’t. We should probably let her know what happened.”

“Ugh,” says Betty again, and picks the phone up. “Hello?”

 _“Hello, Betty.”_ The voice is clearly disguised. “ _This is the Black Hood_.”

She looks up at Jughead, eyes wide with fear.

Jughead is terrified.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh, we have DIVERGENCE
> 
> things might differ even more from here on in
> 
> also down the line it's clear to me that I never really liked archie and he bored the crap out of me then, and now that series 4 has taken the line that he's the heroic, most pure hero ever to cheat on his girlfriend with her best friend (his best friend's girlfriend), I think he's just a dickhead who the series could honestly continue without with ease.


	6. When A Stranger Calls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Betty gets a call from an unknown number. Like no millennial ever, she actually answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yo I wrote this before 4x18 so I didn't know how much we'd all despise archie by the end 
> 
> but now i'm chuffed
> 
> 4x18 bitching in the notes

“Betty,” pleads Jughead silently. “Betty, put it down!”

Betty holds her hand up. Maybe it’s a prank, or someone trying to intimidate her. Maybe it’s the real thing, and they can use this to catch the guy.

“How do I know this is real?” Betty demands, gesturing for Jughead to give her a notebook. He passes her a flimsy reporter’s notebook and a biro, his face agonised. She carefully turns the volume up so he can hear too.

“ _I will strike first where this all began_ ,” intones the voice. This person definitely knows about the letter, then, but since they turned the letter over to the police, a few other people know about it. Betty scribbles this information down.

The Black Hood spouts more claptrap about sins and murder, about how it’s all about her; Betty tries to keep him talking as long as he can, trying to see if she can goad him into giving some clue to his identity. Jughead sits beside her, constantly flapping his arms to try to get her to put the phone down. She evades him.

“ _I will kill Polly if you go to the police, or your mystery-loving boyfriend_ ,” the voice warns “ _I’ll carve her like a jack-o’-lantern_.” 

Jughead finally goes still, and he pales.

“Please,” says Betty. “Please don’t hurt her.”

“Who are you talking to?! It’s late!” demands Alice. Jughead scrambles out from under the covers, glad he is wearing his pyjama trousers rather than just boxers. Thankfully, Betty waves her notebook at Alice, reminding Jughead to blurt that they were doing homework that they’d forgotten about in all the excitement, as Betty ends the call, with a weak ‘bye, Kev’.

“I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt, but this is a one-time exception since you two were so… busy, earlier.” Alice dumps washing on to the bed. “Your own room, now, Jughead.”

Jughead leaps to his feet.

“And I want you both home, straight after school tomorrow,” snaps Alice. It comes from fear, rather than cruelty, although Alice often tangles the two together. “Are we clear?”

They both nod, and Alice waits until Jughead has left the room to close the door.

Twenty minutes later, Betty creeps into Jughead’s bed. She spends the night crying into his chest.

“No,” says Jughead.

“What do you mean, no?” asks Betty. “We need help, we can’t go to the police, Archie’s the only person who might be able to help us with-”

“Please, Betty, for Archie’s sake, don’t tell him about this.” Jughead takes Betty’s hands in his, packing his bag beside her. “He’s already got so much going on, he’s a mess anyway. The last thing he needs is to try and help us with this guy. We can do something else, we can call Polly and tell her and get her police protection, we just- I don’t think we should be dragging Archie into this.”

“You will not be going near that young man, Elizabeth,” says Alice, swooping into view. “He and the rest of those idiots you call a football team got into a fight with some of the Southside Serpents last night, while the rest of us were at town hall paying attention to you two idiots.”

Jughead tenses beside her. Betty understands his irritation; surely they’ve proved themselves by now?

“I’m dropping you off at school myself,” says Alice. “Jughead, Betty, I don’t want either of you near that boy. He’s clearly very troubled.”

Betty and Jughead exchange a look.

The trouble between Northside and Southside is about to boil over into open warfare. The Bulldogs roam the corridors of Riverdale High, buoyed by their supposed ‘victory’ over the Serpents last night, and their immediate release (endorsement) by the police. Archie is in the student lounge with Veronica, who is engrossed in a very intense discussion with Kevin. Archie looks dazed, his face blank.

“We can’t,” agrees Betty, leaning against the door. “Jug, what am I going to do? If we go to the police, he says he’ll hurt Polly!”

“They could protect-”

“What if he’s a policeman, what if he knows where this farm is? I can’t let her get hurt, Jug!”

Jughead sighs. They have no solution yet.

At lunch, lurking outside the school so he can adjust his fears privately, he is met by the scowling features of the big Serpent he’d met once or twice, who had an oddly floral nickname (Forget-me-not? Sunflower? No, no, it was Sweet Pea, wasn’t it?), and Toni Topaz.

“Jones,” snarls Sweet Pea. Jughead wonders if this is what he would have grown up like, if he were more like FP, or less tangled up with Betty and Archie as a child. “You wanna tell those fucking Bulldogs we’re outside?”

“Not really,” says Jughead nervously. “Why are you here?”

Sweet Pea gestures at his black eye.

“Your boy Andrews gave me this, and I spent the night in jail, while he spent the night with his gun-toting Lodge girlfriend,” he says, “so I’m gonna give him something to remember me by. Let him know this is a fucking warning, Jones. You picked the wrong side.”

Jughead doesn’t think he’d picked a side at all. Sweet Pea roars off on his motorbike, but Toni lingers a moment longer.

“Your dad used to stop this, you know,” she says. Jughead winces at the thought of his father, incarcerated at Shankshaw Prison, far in distance but never far from his thoughts. “He would’ve been able to calm the younger Serpents down. Maybe you would, if you were where you actually belonged.”

Oh. She’s trying to guilt-trip him, as if any of this is his fault. Great. This is another little recruitment trip.

“Unfortunately for you,” says Jughead, “but fortunately for me, I’m nothing like my father.”

“Yeah,” drawls Toni. “I can see that.”

Jughead scoffs, and goes inside. Betty is waiting for him in the Blue and Gold. Their attempt to detangle their thoughts separately has left neither of them with a solution. Archie, Veronica and Kevin have not noticed that their friends are barely interacting with them today, and while ordinarily Jughead would resent it for Betty’s sake, he is grateful.

Alice sends Hal to pick them up from school again, but Betty’s father dashes back out, leaving them in the house alone.

The phone rings. 

Betty exhales, and picks it up. Jughead cowers, but he clearly knows he can’t stop Betty answering again.

“ _Are you alone? Are your parents out_?” 

“Yes, I’m alone,” says Betty. She feels uncomfortable, like she's on the receiving end of a dirty phone call. This feels too intimate, invasive.

“ _Your mother is a thorn in both of our sides_.”

He wants Betty to release dirt on her own mother. Betty has had less than charitable feelings about Alice at the best of times, but this seems so pointed, so horrible, she doesn’t understand. How is this punishing a sin? It’s just… what do they call it? Doxxing Alice?

“I mean,” says Jughead carefully. “It shows that your mother is, uh, hypocritical? If she came from the Southside, and she's been, uh, more than critical about it.”

He looks nervous.

“Jug, you can insult my mom, we both know she’s a hypocrite,” says Betty, “but I don’t see why she deserves this. All it’s going to be is embarrassing.”

“So…” Jughead’s voice trails off. “Are you going to do it? He said he’ll answer one of your questions, Betty, but the guy’s a psychopath. Why should we trust him?”

“We don’t,” replies Betty, making up her mind. “You were right. It isn’t worth it. I won’t publish anything. This is just feeding into his games. The best thing to do is not participate.”

Sheriff Keller makes an appearance, tells them that the letter to Betty was in different handwriting, that they are either dealing with a prank, or with a copycat.

“Or,” says Alice, and Betty wilts, “the killer has an accomplice.”

That is not what Betty expects her to say. Jughead seems surprised too, sure that something horrible had been about to spew from Alice’s lips. Betty wonders what she should make of her mother’s kindness now; she’d tried to escape the trap of poverty on the Southside, has some sympathy for the Southsiders now that Jughead is in the house as daily proof that they should be given a chance. The changing tone of her articles, too, suggests that Alice could be facing some truths about herself.

“It’s possible,” admits Keller. “We’re not ruling anything out, until we know what we’re dealing with.”

Betty’s mouth opens to tell him about the phone calls, but her eyes alight on the family picture, on Polly’s bright smile. She shuts her mouth, and takes Jughead’s hand. She wants to cry.

“ _Why don’t you want to knock your mother off her high horse_?” asks the voice, later that night. Jughead has apparently accepted that he cannot stop Betty from talking to the man, even though she won’t go along with his requests. All he can do is be there for her, support her through these tortuous conversations.

“She doesn’t deserve it,” answers Betty defiantly. “Being ashamed of her past isn’t a sin. She’s just scared. That’s not evil.”

The voice tuts.

“ _Betty, I hoped you’d be less naïve_ ,” he says. “ _Everyone’s a sinner. Like your friend Veronica, for example. You and I both know she isn’t innocent._ ”

Betty resists the urge to scoff.

“ _Cut her out of your life,_ ” the voice insists. “ _Or I will. You’ve already disappointed me, Betty. If you let me down again…_ ”

The voice trails off, and then the dial tone echoes dully.

Jughead clutches Betty’s hands.

“Betty,” he says desperately.

“What am I going to do?” pleads Betty, her eyes filling. “I can’t- He’s threatening- Jug, I have to do it, I have to make a break with Veronica, what am I going to do?”

Jughead hasn’t got an answer. He just holds her as she cries.

“Do you ever wish we could just go?” he says, hands wrapped around hers. “Just hop on a motorcycle, and… just leave Riverdale? Go someplace where there’s no Northside or Southside or Serpents?”

“No crazy moms, or serial killers on the phone.” Betty sniffs, and meets his gaze. He wonders if she can understand how he’d do anything to make this better for her. “Like Romeo and Juliet, except we live happily ever after instead?”

“Oh,” says Jughead, trying to make her laugh. “Couldn’t we be… Beatrice and Benedick? Or at least Rosalind and Orlando?”

She laughs weakly, and rests her head against his. He doesn’t know what they’re going to do.

Luckily, an opportunity presents itself, as much as it breaks Betty’s heart to do it. Veronica has a friend to visit, a smarmy rich kid from her New York days. If Betty weren’t under orders to break off her friendship with Veronica _in case someone killed her_ , she’d be quizzing Veronica about this creep, trying to work out what the hell his deal was.

“Bad vibes,” says Jughead, after Nick demands their presence at his party. “That guy is… something, Betty.”

“I know,” she says. They are invited to the hotel – well, she is, and Nick gestured vaguely at Jughead as an afterthought. 

“I have to say,” says Jughead, “as much as I like to see Josie and the Pussycats succeeding, I can’t actually stand the idea of watching them perform in a hotel room for, like, six other people. I hope it’s a short set or I might cry.”

“Jug,” says Betty. “I’m going to do it tonight. You’re going to have to help me.”

They find themselves in Nick St Clair’s suite at the Four Seasons, watching the Pussycats perform. Betty looks stiff, cold and tired. Jughead is no better, but he’d look like that normally.

But they have a plan.

Just after the performance, Jughead manages to catch Veronica’s eye, and asks her to show him where the loo is.

“Jughead,” says Veronica, clearly irritated, as she walks him through the suite. “I’m not sure-”

“Listen,” says Jughead hurriedly. “Betty’s going to pick a fight with you.

“What?”

“Just… Betty’s going to pick a fight with you, and she’s going to pretend she isn’t friends anymore for a while. She doesn’t mean any of it, trust me. Just… please, I can’t explain why, I just need you to trust us, okay? If you can’t trust me, then trust Betty. Please go with it. It’s more important than I can say.”

Veronica looks cynical, those angular brows drawn together in perfect scepticism.

“Jughead,” she says angrily.

“Betty’s sorry,” says Jughead, and hurries away before Veronica can ask more questions.

They make it surprisingly easy, all of the other party members indulging in St Clair’s ridiculous Jingle Jangle and making idiots of themselves. Veronica is clearly already irritated and confused, but when Betty blows up at her for becoming a shallow, airhead party-girl, recognition flutters across her face. Her eyes flick to Jughead, who gives her the tiniest nod.

Betty and Jughead leave the party in disgrace.

“What was all that about, Betty?” asks Jughead loudly, as they return through the streets. “Why were you so rude to Veronica? She was throwing a great party, and you just ruined it!”

(He’s always hated parties, but somehow this one beat his birthday for ‘worst party of the year’. Nick St Clair is a self-aggrandising asshole.)

“I’m just… sick of her, Jughead!” squeals Betty. She gives him the wide eyes that she always adopts when she’s lying. Jughead hopes Veronica will forgive both of them one day, for Betty’s sake. He doesn’t care much about Archie, at the moment, who had apparently decided to add to his month of stupid behaviour by trying Jingle Jangle. Let him stew; he’s too naïve to lie about this. It can only be Veronica who knows, as long as the Black Hood threatens her life.

Her phone rings, later that night.

“ _I wanted to call you earlier_ ,” the voice says, “ _But your delinquent boyfriend was there._ ”

Betty’s delinquent boyfriend is in bed beside her, his hair standing on end like it always does when he sleeps.

“ _He’s a criminal, you know that?_ ” the voice continues. “ _Southside scum. Son of Serpents. An arsonist as a child. You think he won’t end up on the same path as the rest of his ilk? He isn’t worthy of your love_.”

Jughead has gone very still. Betty wonders if those are the very thoughts that plague him, when he lies awake thinking about his father and his lost family.

“ _Cut him out of your life,”_ the voice orders. _“I haven’t killed since our little talks started, have I? If you want him alive, he stops being your boyfriend. Let him live in your house, like a cuckoo in the nest, until he reverts to his heritage and proves me right._ ”

The phone rings off.

Betty cannot bear to look at Jughead.

“Betty,” he says, voice trembling. “I don’t want to break up with you. I love you.”

“And you won’t,” says Betty, determined. “We did it with V; we can just pretend at school, maybe in front of my parents, we can just… this is ours, Jughead. I won’t let him take it away from me.”

Jughead sniffs. He is crying, silently and slowly. Betty cups his face, draws him up to look at her.

“We’re going to have to be so careful,” she whispers. “I was planning on having you around for, oh, quite a long time, okay? We just have to be careful, Juggie. Okay?”

“Okay,” he whispers, and curls into her, pressing his face into her shoulder so he can cry in silence. His whole body shudders, and his hands grasp desperately at her sides. Betty thinks there is more here than simple fear of his life. The Black Hood has exposed that same raw nerve that Jughead showed her the night of his birthday party, the fear that he would never be good enough for anything, least of all for her. 

Betty tightens her arms around Jughead, and seethes with hate.

They start the fight in the student common room.

In the morning, when Jughead felt capable of talking about it, they discussed what would be believable for them. Infidelity? No, they’d have to find a third party to yell about, and Betty sees that Jughead is not in a fit mental state to even pretend about that. The Southside? No, again, for Jughead’s sake. They struggle to find something to split up over; everyone at school has seen just how attached they are to one another.

In the end, it is simple and easy. It is definitely a lie.

“We’re too close!” shouts Betty, her voice edging closer to histrionics than she likes. “At school, you’re there. When I get home, you’re there! I can’t get any time away from you, Jughead, and you’re driving me crazy. I just want…. I want a break, okay? I don’t want to be around you anymore! Everything about you is starting to piss me off!”

“Oh, you think I like being around you all the time?” demands Jughead. _Yes,_ _I do,_ he thinks. “You think I like waking up in the same house as you, knowing you’ll always be there? Your little homework habits, the way you eat, the smell of your detergent in every room?!”

He does. He fucking loves it.

“You are on top of me twenty-four seven!” shouts Betty. _Is she naming things she actually likes too_?

“Lovebirds!” shouts a commanding voice. They stop, and look at Cheryl Blossom, regal in the most comfortable armchair. She points at them both.

“Take this outside,” she says imperiously, but Betty thinks she hears a note of sympathy in her voice. “You are making everyone in here suffer through something that should be very private.”

She gives them the perfect excuse to retreat to the Blue and Gold.

“We’re still arguing, right?” asks Jughead, his voice raised.

“Yeah!” roars Betty. A reluctant smile spreads across her lips. “We’ll have to be careful, though. After this, we shouldn’t spend time at school together in case he hears about it… somehow… and works out that we’re faking.”

Jughead breathes a sigh of relief.

“Alright, so, we’re officially broken up.” He says. The words pain him, although he pretends that they don’t.

Betty winces too, and he feels better about himself.

“What’s the game plan?”

They wait for the call. Alice and Hal have noticed the ‘tension’ between them, and are apparently ignoring it. Betty wonders idly what they would do about fostering Jughead if they _really_ broke up. She hopes she would be a big enough person to encourage her parents not to throw him out. Betty sits in her room, miserable, repeatedly texting Jughead stupid things about their homework in an effort to fill the gap of him not being in her room to work with her. Jughead texts back a series of stupid faces, and a little drawing he’s done of Dr Phylum sticking a test tube up his nose.

Yeah, okay. They can do this.

The Black Hood calls her. He believes her, thank God, and gives her directions to a house in Fox Forest.

She refuses to go.

She knows by now that his clues are meaningless, that it will achieve nothing.

She puts the phone down, feeling relieved.

It buzzes again a moment later. Betty picks it up, ready to tell the Black Hood that she doesn’t care anymore.

It’s Archie, telling her that Nick St Clair tried to rape Cheryl, asking for her help at the Pembrooke. He very carefully doesn’t ask for Jughead.

Betty feels a cool rage come over her. St Clair is somehow worse than they thought. He is a predator, evil. The worst kind of monster, to prey on people like that.

She remembers Cheryl’s new, tentative sympathy; her almost-helpfulness during Jughead and Betty’s ‘fight’ this morning; her understanding of Kevin, her subtle desire to help the people who'd helped her.

Betty puts her phone down, and grabs her coat. This, they can do something about. This will actually achieve something.

Her phone buzzes again.

“What, Arch?” she demands.

“ _If you won’t come to me, Betty, if you won’t be my friend, I’m afraid I’ll have to take out on your sister_ ,” the voice snarls. “ _Unless..._ ”

“Unless?” repeats Betty, feeling sick with fear. _Polly, Polly, what have I done_?

“ _Give me another name,” the Black Hood demands. “Another sinner, another of the guilty, in place of Polly_.”

Betty blurts it out before she can stop herself.

“St Clair,” she gasps, guilt freezing her throat. “Nick St Clair!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so the premise of the episode was betty kissed archie, was confused and tempted by the nostalgia and the comfort of her childhood fantasies, but didn't act on it any further and it ultimately only showed her how much more she wanted to be with jughead than with archie. okay, it was badly written and unnecessary, out of character, out of nowhere, and still clearly only to cause a split in the time-jump, but... I can vaguely reconcile myself to the idea, and now mainly feel sorry that they've set betty up to lose the future she was getting excited about.
> 
> archie was a straight up wanker. he was trying to persuade betty to have sex with him BEFORE even splitting up with their own partners, and trying to coerce her when she was clearly vulnerable and asking him for space and time to think. that's gross. he was astonished to be turned down. he was aiming to have them carry on behind j & v's backs. he barely thought about veronica, while betty never stopped thinking about jughead. it's despicable. it throws much of his questionable behaviour earlier in the series into sharp relief. what an awful person. going to be hard to stop this fic reflecting that.
> 
> also psychoanalyst Cheryl (I forgot how I liked her from series 2!!! this is the Cheryl we always wanted and deserved!!!!) is hopefully gonna turn up more.


	7. Death Proof

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of Nick St Clair rears its ugly head, and Betty struggles to cope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just remembered what a waste of time the original break-up/make-up was.

Betty runs to the Pembrooke, her lungs aching with the cold and the speed. Her phone is still buzzing; it’s Jughead, no doubt worried by her sudden departure. Betty will call him when she can; right now she needs to save a terrible person’s life.

Nick St Clair is fine, besides a beating from the Pussycats. The Black Hood tells her she’s given him a gift, shown him her true self. He doesn’t care that Nick St Clair is the only person Betty truly considered worthy of condemnation. Betty is filled with more revulsion, even as she hates herself for it. Nick is a rapist, a serial predator, and the Black Hood would rather threaten Polly, who committed the sin of falling in love with her unknown cousin and wanting to be happy.

She knows he’s trying to manipulate her. She knows it’s fucking _working,_ too; but at least she hasn’t got anyone killed.

It doesn’t escape her notice, though, that the Black Hood is far keener on punishing _women_ for minor things than men for the serious crimes they commit.

Betty’s done. She doesn’t owe him anything. She’s going to call Polly, tell her to go into hiding, the way she should have as soon as the Black Hood started calling her.

She sneaks into the house, into Jughead’s room, and tells him all about it.

“I condemned a man, Jug,” she says tiredly. Tonight has been more than enough to drain her of emotion.

“You named a sexual predator, to save your sister’s life,” retorts Jughead. “I’m not saying it’s fine, Betty. But this is on him, not you. You’re fifteen. Jesus Christ.”

Betty leans into him, kissing him softly. The Black Hood is wrong, she thinks. It’s her who doesn’t deserve Jughead sometimes.

Their kisses turn heated. Betty goes to take her top off, thinking _yes, this is it, make me feel good_ , but Jughead stops her.

“You don't want to?” she asks, guilty. She just wants to feel better, and she wasn't thinking about Jughead's uncertain attitude to sex. He deserves more than that from her.

“Not when you aren’t thinking straight,” says Jughead sadly. “Not when it’s because we’re scared and in trouble. If… when we do… more, I want it to feel good. I don’t think I can’t do it like this, Betty, not prompted by him.”

It’s true. He doesn’t seem turned on, just soft and comforting. Betty pulls her top back down, nestles into him, and tries to sleep.

They both lie there awake, late into the night.

The next morning, Alice and the other parents hold a kangaroo court for the kids who went to the party. Archie is staring at Betty with some concern, the penny having finally dropped that something weird is going on with her. He starts over, his expression questioning, but Veronica grabs his arm.

“Not now, Archie,” she hisses, and meets Betty’s eyes for a second. Betty blinks at her, wondering what the Morse code for _I’m so grateful for you, V_ is.

She and Jughead sit next to each other, both rigidly refusing to let their bodies touch. She hopes that they look broken up. She has forgotten what it’s like not to just feel comfortable around him.

The truth about the Jingle Jangle comes out. Betty wonders where poor Cheryl is, if someone (not Penelope, hopefully) is looking after her. She and Jughead are complimented for their refusal to indulge, but goodwill towards Jughead only lasts until Reggie Mantle mentions that he got his drugs from the Southside.

Alice is pretty quiet about that, but the other parents rage and scream against the Serpents and Southside High. Hiram condemns it as the source of all of Riverdale’s problems; Mayor McCoy, fuelled by Josie’s drug-use, promises a war.

“You were perfectly happy to pay my dad to trash the drive-in!” blurts Jughead suddenly. “Mayor McCoy, if you go in there, all guns blazing, you won’t calm anything about the Southside down. They’ll just resent you and the police more.”

“Ah, of course Mr Jones speaks up to defend his fellow snakes,” sneers Hiram. “You have no proof of that, young man, just your criminal father’s accusations. And Mayor McCoy is well within her rights to use force against that school. It’s a breeding ground for criminals. Weren’t you meant to go there, until recently?”

Jughead’s hand tightens into a fist, but he goes quiet and sullen. Betty desperately wants to defend him, to comfort him, but she might cost him his life.

The other adults are swayed by Hiram’s words. The raid on Southside High will go ahead. Betty thinks about that Serpent girl, Toni, and wonders what she will do.

At school, Betty has to ignore Veronica and Jughead, the two people who she most wants to talk to. She has been sending texts to Jughead since the meeting, encouragement and defence, telling him that he was right and brave. Jughead’s replies have been terse. She doesn’t think he blames her, but he’s definitely brooding.

Kevin gives her shit for her behaviour. Veronica stops him, tells Kevin it isn’t worth it. She gives Betty another conspiratorial look, and Betty resolves to tell Veronica the truth as soon as possible.

The Black Hood calls her again. This time, he asks her to find some drug dealer called ‘the Sugarman’. 

Yeah. She’s willing to do that. She wishes Jughead could be with her, but they can’t risk it.

(She calls Jughead and tells him all about it. He begs her to be careful. She thinks he’s miserable again, hidden in the closet where he stayed before Archie found him. She finds him in there, kisses him and tells him she loves him, before she goes in search of Cheryl.)

“Cousin,” says Cheryl, apparently tanning her fair skin in late autumn. “What an unexpected pleasure.”

“How are you, Cheryl?” asks Betty. “I wanted to check up on you.”

It’s true. Betty thinks she ought to have seen Cheryl without being prompted, since she’s retreated to Thistlehouse and the horrors of Penelope’s ‘care’.

“I’m compartmentalising,” says Cheryl frankly. “But I think you’re here for something else? I can see right through you, Invisible Woman. What do you want this time?”

Cheryl’s resentment is justified. Betty resolves to try and be less mercenary, now that Cheryl is being kinder to her.

“Have you ever heard of someone called ‘the Sugar Man’?”

Cheryl says he was a myth, a scary story Penelope told her and Jason. She asks Betty not to defile any more memories. Betty cringes, feeling like a terrible person. She just wants to stop the Black Hood, make Riverdale safe. How many bridges is he going to make her burn to do it?

She sits down.

“Cheryl,” she says. “I was serious about wanting to see how you are.”

Cheryl shakes her head.

“I’m not ready, Betty,” she says. “But… I wouldn’t mind talking to you, or Veronica. When I’m ready.”

“Okay,” replies Betty, retreating. “When you’re ready.”

Archie, for the first time in ages, checks in with Jughead.

“Are you and Betty-” he asks.

“We’re kind of broken up,” says Jughead. It still hurts to even think about it, even though _it’s not true, it’s not true_.

“Oh, shit, man, I’m sorry,” says Archie. Jughead isn’t sure if he’s sincere or not. “How are you dealing with the whole… Southside Jingle Jangle Serpents thing? I heard what you said at the meeting, but I think Mr Lodge might have a point.”

Jughead snorts. Of course Archie thinks that. He’s always been easily led.

“It’s a mess, Archie, but I’m here, aren’t I? And God forbid someone from the Northside could sympathise with the Southside.”

“But you _are_ from the Southside,” says Archie, confused. Jughead is clearly fighting a losing battle. 

“It doesn’t matter,” he says. “Look, forget about me, how are you? I’ve been hearing crazy stuff, like fights with the Serpents, and pointing guns at people, are you okay? You’ve been through a lot since your dad nearly died, and I haven’t managed to see you that much since.”

_With good reason_ , he thinks.

“I’m okay!” says Archie happily, glossing over all of those things like nothing had happened. “It was a lot, yeah, but it’s all over now. I talked it through with dad. Did you know, the rest of us have to do community service? You and Betty are real lucky you didn’t take any Jangle.”

_You idiot_ , thinks Jughead. _Things wouldn’t be such a powder keg on the Southside if you hadn’t decided vigilantism was the right way to go. We aren’t lucky, we just made a better decision._

He doesn’t say it. There is no point.

Outside the school, he finds the Serpents waiting again. It's Toni, Sweet Pea, and the new guy.

“Tall Boy wants us to merge with the Ghoulies,” says Toni, with no preamble.

“Okay,” says Jughead.

“You haven’t got anything to say about that?” demands Sweet Pea.

“…should I?” asks Jughead. He can’t comprehend why these three want him around so much. He’s tried to make it clear that he doesn’t want any part of Serpent life. It still scares the crap out of him.

“You’re the Serpent King’s son,” explains Toni, again. “In a way, if you were one of us, you’d be like… a de-facto leader. Or at least, you know, your opinions would carry weight.”

Fucking hell.

“Look,” says Jughead. “If you want my opinion, you can have it: it sounds like a terrible idea to me. But I also think having a gang that runs drugs out of a high school, and has a line of hereditary leaders, is a fucking awful idea, okay? Just my _opinion,_ guys. Please. Leave me alone. I don’t want any part of it.”

He tries to leave. Sweet Pea clocks him with his shoulder.

“You’re a coward,” he snarls.

“I’m a conscientious objector,” snaps Jughead. “I don’t really care if you think I’m a coward or not.”

Betty tries Sheriff Keller, who is little help to her. Yes, the Sugar Man was one of many nicknames for Clifford Blossom, before he was revealed as Riverdale’s drug kingpin. No, this must be someone new, who appeared with an influx of Jingle Jangle. Yes, they're making inquiries.

Veronica sits at another booth, reading _The Secret History_. Betty wonders if this is her chance. She can’t sit at the booth with Veronica, but she brushes past the other girl, gesturing to the bathrooms carefully.

She waits for five minutes, before the clicking of Veronica’s heels heralds her arrival.

“Betty,” she says angrily. “What the fuck is going on? First you pick a fight with me, now you’ve split up with Jughead, I don’t-”

Betty envelops her in a hug, and starts to cry.

Veronica listens to her.

“I’m just… processing,” she says. “This is such a mess.”

“I know,” says Betty. “But if I can just… if I can turn the tables on him, somehow, he says he’ll go away, if I do this one last thing. But I can’t get someone killed, V. I just can’t.”

“Do you want my help?” asks Veronica.

“Please,” says Betty. It can’t just be her and Jughead against the world any longer. They need allies, and Veronica is one of the smartest people she knows.

Jughead decides to visit his father.

  
Archie comes with him, apparently still on his Fred-prompted kick of actually giving a shit about Jughead. They both face FP through the glass. He looks… well, he looks better for not being drunk for over a month, maybe, but his dad looks pale and thin, drained by his incarceration.

“I’m glad you haven’t joined the Serpents, boy,” he says. “I never wanted that life for you. I never wanted it for me. I was scared it would eat you up, the way it did your granddaddy and me. And I’m glad you’re helping him, Red.”

“Always, Mr Jones,” says Archie eagerly. Jughead rolls his eyes.

“The younger Serpents say Tall Boy wants to merge with the Ghoulies,” he says. “They won’t leave me alone, Dad, they keep turning up at school and the Cooper house and trying to get me on board. Is there something I can say to them? Like, some advice I can pass on from the Dear Leader so I can get them to stop wanting me as Supreme Leader?”

FP and Archie look confused. Apparently jokes about North Korean cults of personality are lost on this audience. He reminds himself to make Betty laugh about it later – hopefully.

“I want the Serpents to leave me alone,” he repeats. “I’ll do them this one favour, pass it along, and then they can just stop trying, yeah?”

He knows it probably won’t work, but he can try his best.

FP’s suggestion is fucking ridiculous. He resolves to pass it along to the Serpents anyway. He and Archie drop by the Whyte Wyrm, pass the message on to Fangs Fogarty, and leave. He doesn’t want any part of it. He goes home, sees that Betty is still out, and falls asleep before he can tell her everything.

Veronica uses her community service to pump Reggie for information about his dealer. Betty delights in recovering her friendship, even after two days. Soon, this will all be over, surely.

It doesn’t get them anywhere; it just gets them threatened at the Ghoulies’ lair. The big Serpent that Betty saw once with Toni Topaz is there, negotiating a street race (really?), with the one called Tall Boy, the one that Betty met twice at the Jones trailer. Sweet Pea hustles her and Veronica out sharply.

“Tell Jones we don’t owe him anything after this,” he whispers. “Saving his stupid Northside girlfriend should be enough in return for his message from the Serpent King.”

_What the hell, Jughead_?!

“It was the only thing I could think to do,” clarifies Jughead. They are sitting in her bathroom, hidden from view. Jughead has actually gone to the effort of rigging a fake Jughead, complete with Sherpa and beanie, in his room. If the Black Hood can see through the windows, he will only see Betty’s bathroom door closed, and a (heartbroken) Jughead at his desk.

“A drag race?”

“Don’t ask me,” he says. “I thought maybe passing advice on from my dad would get them off my back. I didn’t think they were actually going to take it seriously.”

Betty sighs.

“We’ve both had a wasted day,” she says sadly. “I’m no further than I was this morning, trying to find the Sugar Man. And you’ve-”

“I may have done exactly what I didn’t want, and made things on the Southside worse.” Jughead sighs, and rests his head on the side of the bath. “God, Betty, what the hell are we doing?”

“How’s your dad?” she asks. If they go around and around the same subjects – if he spirals about advising the Serpents, if she thinks about how she put Veronica and herself in danger - they won’t cope.

“He’s doing okay,” says Jughead, his voice muffled. “He says he’s glad I didn’t join the Serpents. He says he never wanted that for me.”

“That’s good,” soothes Betty. 

“I can’t believe I still want his approval.”

“He’s your dad. You’re allowed to love him.”

They don’t go to watch the drag race. It’s a mess; Sweet Pea’s car is a rustbucket, useless and clumsy. In the end, it doesn’t matter, because Archie called the police.

The Ghoulies are arrested; the Serpents scatter.

“What the hell, Jones?” demands Sweet Pea. The same trio of junior Serpents has turned up again. Jughead is getting really sick of their faces, their simmering resentment towards him. It doesn’t help that they turned up while he was hiding at the back of the school with Betty, trying to steal a few moments together where they thought (hoped) the Black Hood couldn’t see them. Betty’s chin is raised, determined not to be intimidated by the Serpents.

“I don’t know who called the police,” says Jughead wearily, because he guesses he owes it to Archie to protect him from yet more conflict with the Serpents. “But aren’t the Ghoulies put away now? Isn’t your problem solved? Surely, you can leave us alone now. I don’t want to be a Serpent.”

“You don’t deserve to be a Serpent,” spits Fangs.

“Great!” says Jughead, exasperated. “Glad we’ve all realised that, now.”

The Serpents leave in high dudgeon. Toni shoots him a regretful look that he doesn’t understand. Betty’s lip curls in disgust.

They sit at the table at Pop’s that night, Betty and Veronica, when Cheryl calls and tells them who the Sugar Man is. Betty arranges to talk to her at school tomorrow, to explain why she was so hell-bent on finding out.

“How are you, Cheryl?” asks Betty.

“ _Cousin,_ ” Cheryl takes a deep intake of breath. “ _We’ll talk about it tomorrow. You, me and Veronica, at school, okay? I'd... I'd really like that, Betty._ ”

“Okay,” says Betty. “Thank you for everything. I... hope you're okay, Cheryl. You've helped more than I can tell you.”

“Cherry Bombshell for the win,” says Veronica, astonished.

“What should I do?” asks Betty. “If I give him the name, the Sugar Man is dead. If I don’t give him the name, none of them are safe. Jughead - you – I’m putting you in terrible danger.”

Veronica doesn’t have an answer.

Betty decides it is long past time to do the most obvious thing, and tell Sheriff Keller.

The Black Hood calls her that night, raging.

“It won’t do you any good,” says Betty coolly. “I’ve already let the police know. The Sugar Man needs to be brought to justice, not execution. You have no idea what real morality is. You were happy to condemn my mother, for trying to escape her past? Veronica, for being caught in the trappings of wealth and privilege? Jughead, for the sin of coming from the Southside and being in love with me? And you just ignored Nick St Clair, a real monster. You’re a hypocrite and a murderer. The only sinner I see in this situation is you. I don’t care who you are.”

“ _You’re playing a very dangerous game_.”

“But it’s my game now,” says Betty. “It ends with me catching you. I caught Jason Blossom’s killer. I caught the Sugar Man. You know what? You’re next.”

The Black Hood hangs up abruptly.

Jughead looks at her in adoration, cross legged on her bed. He shifts a little, and seems to need to re-adjust the cushion in his lap. Betty exults internally, and sits with him.

“So who was the Sugar Man, then?” 

“Some English teacher at Southside,” she says. “Robert Phillips? Jug, maybe he would have taught you if you’d gone there, can you imagine?”

Jughead shakes his head ruefully. She thinks of his improved grades in every subject, but especially English; the quiet pride with which he shows her (and even Alice and Hal) his marks is so sweet and endearing. She’s so glad to have him here with her.

“It doesn’t matter, anyway,” he says. “It’s not our problem anymore. I’m so proud of you for getting through it, Betty. Let’s not give it another moment’s thought.”

She moves closer to him, and kisses him, deeper and deeper as his hands curl around her body. This time, he doesn’t stop her when she starts to take her top off. He smiles shyly, and pulls his t-shirt over his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah so the black hood didn't give a fuck about a literal rapist, but he was all 'hey betty, doxx your mum and fuck veronica off because they're a bit gobby'? the fuck was all that about? apologies to anyone who wanted Nick St Clair to get fucked up, that part of canon is sadly unchanged.


	8. Tales from the Darkside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The people of Riverdale are challenged not to sin for forty-eight hours. This time, that isn't so hard to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple of really important things no longer happen.

When Jughead wakes up, he remembers what happened last night, and he’s confused and giddy and delighted.

He first remembers feeling confused about sex when he hit puberty, seemingly growing a foot overnight, and seeing parts of his body change in ways he’d expected, but not really been prepared for. Archie had been so much bigger already, starting to work out and bulk up for football ludicrously young, so Jughead had wondered (worried??) about turning out the same way.

As it is, he definitely hadn’t. He shot up to six foot, sure, but he stayed skinny and lanky. Admittedly, Archie was possessed of both a stable home and a nutritious diet, both of which Jughead had lacked for years, but even now, after a few months of being fed regularly by Fred, and then Alice, Jughead is lean.

He wondered about the rest of it, too. If he doesn’t shave, he gets the barest hint of fluff on his chin, not the stubble that he associates with FP’s worst mornings. He’s been informed, frequently by Reggie, that he’s pretty, looks like he could be a girl when his hair is longer. Before the necrophilia comments, Reggie’s favourite form of taunting was that Jughead was gay, like that was a terrible thing, like saying it in front of Kevin as an insult wasn’t a total dick move. Luckily, even Reggie seems to have realised (belatedly, after years of being an asshole) that it wasn’t okay to use that as an insult. Toxic masculinity has a lot to answer for. And he doesn’t mind being androgynous, if he is; he’d much rather that, feeling comfortable in his own body, than the obsession he’s seen amongst his peers, using some idea of physical prowess and aggression to assert their ‘manliness’.

Jughead wondered if he was gay, too, when he realised that his vague appreciation of beauty in other humans wasn’t quite the same as Archie’s perpetual lust and longing over whatever girl he’d hung around with each week. Then there was the same redhead’s enthusiastic discovery of pornography, and his insistence that Jughead would be into it if he just gave it a try. 

Jughead spent about a week wondering, indulging in a natural curiosity about pornography and the mechanics of sex, whether between men and women or men and men or women and women (or the sheer wealth of variations). He’d come to a fairly swift conclusion that he wasn’t turned on by any of it, let alone interested in the largely unrealistic sex he saw on screen.

There were a few scenes in films that he’d felt… entranced by, maybe, rather than actually aroused – the kissing scene in Notorious had made him feel a longing for that closeness to someone, to the idea of kissing while you exchanged stories and feelings, and he’d dreamt about it once. He’d been Cary Grant, naturally, and the blonde whose cheek he caressed and nuzzled… well, even at the time, it had been Betty, and he’d just assumed it was because she was the blonde he was closest to, so of course she was Ingrid Bergman. He awoke feeling guilty, because she loved Archie and not him, and then later he felt worse, because he’d read a lot about Hitchcock and the way he treated women, and how those icy Hitchcock blondes were manipulated on set.

But he’d assumed that was the extent of it.

He just wasn’t that interested in sex. He’d masturbated, sometimes, because it felt good and he was curious, but again, it was a little underwhelming to him. He’d come to the conclusion that sex just wasn’t for him.

Until he fell in love with Betty.

He’d researched demisexuality, asexuality, gained a vague awareness that he sat on an indefinable position somewhere on that scale, in all likelihood. The occasional yearning for closeness suggested to him that he’d be open to the idea of a romantic relationship, although he wondered if maybe that was related to his own feelings of isolation, of his inability to relate to his father, and his abandonment by his mother (and Archie, his closest friend).

But there was Betty, again.

Sure, before he’d truly fallen in love with her, until she was close to him and understood him and opened her heart and her insecurities, he’d been objectively aware that she was beautiful. There was no mistaking that. But now that she loved him, he was much more aware of it, found himself marvelling at the cream tone of her skin beside his own olive, at the delicate bones of her face, the long lines of her legs. He thought about her lips, the curve of her breasts, the way her body seemed to fit along the lines of his.

Last night, when she’d taken her shirt off, he’d been transfixed by her breasts, by the sweet shape of them, the pink nipples heaving as she breathed nervously under his scrutiny. He’d seen pictures of breasts before, without much interest. Now, he was aware of his cock hardening, and thoughts of touching them, tasting them, flickered through his mind.

“Jug,” she’d said nervously, “we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

He’d kissed her, then, one hand cupping her head, and one cupping the soft flesh of her chest tenderly. They spent hours like that, just touching, feeling. Every part of her fascinated him, and when he put his hand between her legs, he’d marvelled at the soft, wet warmth he’d found there, watched her in devotion as she shuddered and gasped as he touched her. He’d felt so impossibly good when she touched him too, when his nerve-endings lit up and he came with a whimper of her name, finally feeling like he understood the desire for sex that had eluded him when Archie whinged about his latest hook-up.

He liked sleeping with Betty. He liked it in every sense of the word. He liked seeing her lovely face suffused with pleasure and he liked the way she delighted when she stroked him to orgasm. He liked holding her afterwards, talking about what they’d liked, what they wanted.

So, yeah. This is fucking great.

The next day, Betty and Veronica talk to Cheryl.

Betty is in the most buoyant mood she can remember. She caught the Sugar Man and put her foot down with the Black Hood and she had sex last night! Okay, so not sex in the strict penetrative sense, but that’s… whatever? It was sex and she came and he came and it felt so, so good, and Jughead said he loved it and he loved her and that’s all that matters, really, in her mind. Little bits of their night keep playing in her mind: the bliss on his face as he came, the feeling of him in her hand, the sheer pleasure she'd felt when she came...

She is triumphant. She wants to make other people feel as good as she feels. Cheryl has had a terrible time of it recently; none of them tried hard enough to talk to her after her suicide attempt, what with Fred and the murders and the tension on the Southside. She doesn’t think anyone has tried hard enough to talk to Cheryl after Nick’s assault either, all of them distracted again. She wants Cheryl to be okay. She resents the Black Hood’s dismissal of Nick’s crimes; she thinks Cheryl desperately deserved better. She thinks about the contrast between the trust and connection she felt last night, and the horror of what Nick tried to take from Cheryl.

Cheryl is as beautifully turned out as ever, but her hair is dull and unstyled, and her face is more rigid with anger than Betty has ever seen her at a Vixens’ practice.

“My mom was going to take the bribe,” is the first thing she says. “The St Clairs were going to pay her off, and my mom cared more about the money that the fact that he- that he tried to-”

Her face crumples into tears. Veronica hurries to hold her, the way she had weeks ago after the pep rally. Betty is less close to her own cousin, but she edges closer, and finds herself stroking Cheryl’s back gently.

More spews out of Cheryl’s mouth, about the years of emotional abuse by her parents, about how little anyone except Jason had cared for her for herself, rather than her money or her power. It is painful and Betty’s heart aches. She says how small Nick made her feel, how it made her want to lash out and cling to people who don’t want her the way she wants them.

They share stories, then; Betty knows that Alice and Hal have never resented her the way Penelope seems to resent Cheryl, but Alice’s oppressive love has stifled her. Veronica’s parents have never wavered in her love for her, but she shares her fears of her own parents’ corruption, the fact that business means more to them than being good ever could.

It is incredibly cathartic.

“Thank you,” says Cheryl eventually. Her tears are dried, but she seems softer, and Betty wonders how many times she has had real female friends, rather than sycophants. She was similar, before Veronica came along, never quite understanding Polly or close to the girls in her class. As much as she loves Jughead, as much as Cheryl loved Jason, there was no substitute for a female confidante.

“I needed this,” continues Cheryl. “I… I wanted to die, and you four were the only people that cared. I’ve been… I thought some terrible things. I wanted to do terrible things to people. I think I’m really fucked up.”

“You aren’t,” promises Betty. “You’ve been through a lot. We’ve all thought awful stuff like that, and acted on it, we just have to resist the urge.”

She thinks of her own treatment of Chuck, of how detached and bizarre she felt. She wonders how poor Cheryl would have acted in the same situation.

“Cousin,” says Cheryl, wiping her eyes. “I’m sorry for all the years I bullied you.”

Betty nods. She can’t forgive yet, but understanding Cheryl better makes her feel like she can sympathise with a desperate desire to feel powerful by striking out at the people around her.

In the end, they all cry all their make-up off, and have to move to the loos to repair the damage. Cheryl offers to do Betty’s make-up, like she did in that first week back at school. Betty isn’t ready for that, but she thanks her cousin, and resolves to do this again. Warmth spreads through her chest, and she wonders if things will be better now. She leaves Cheryl and Veronica in the bathroom, discussing make-up brands she could never afford, and heads to the Blue and Gold.

A nervous Jughead waits there, tells her that the Sugar Man was found dead in his cell.

They lie in bed together the next morning. Betty is despairing, feeling like she still failed.

“Hey, Betty,” says Jughead. “Phillips didn’t deserve what happened to him, but he was a high school teacher, dealing drugs. And Betty, if-”

“And how the hell did the Black Hood even get into the Sheriff’s station? I mean, unless he-”

“What?” Jughead prompts, letting her think. “What is it, Poirot?”

She grins at him. He pictures her dressed as the fussy Belgian detective, and thinks she’d still look cute.

“No,” she says, “no, it’s too crazy.”

His phone rings, and he promises to return. He sees an unknown number, and panics.

“Hello?” he says nervously.

“It’s Penny Peabody,” says a woman’s voice, and he relaxes, before instantly sitting upright again. Penny Peabody. Alice warned him against her, when Tall Boy offered her help.

She tells him FP’s in trouble, that the Ghoulies beat him up, in revenge for the drag race.

“What is it, Jug?” asks Betty, seeing his face.

“I need to talk to your mom,” he says.

Jughead has only seen his father once since he went down, has called him once a week. Each conversation is stilted and painful, when neither of them have anything to say to each other. He waits for the calls from the prison, scheduled at the same time each Thursday.

Alice is downstairs, folding laundry. He sees his jeans in the basket alongside Betty’s, and his chest warms at the sight of their things together.

“What is it, Jughead?” asks Alice.

“Penny Peabody called me; I don’t know how she got my number. She says my dad’s in trouble; he got beat up at the prison.”

Alice’s hands tighten on the skirt she’s holding. She can see how afraid Jughead is, how his hands tremble.

“Okay,” she says, breathing carefully. “You block her number, Jughead. She was trouble when I knew her, and I can’t imagine she’s any better now.”

“And my dad?”

“I’m calling the school, Jughead,” she says. “You and I can go to Shawshank today.”

It is very strange to have Alice so firmly in his corner, to have an adult who is determined to keep him safe. His dad made vague attempts, but they were always tempered by instability and addiction.

Betty wants to come, but Alice drops her off at school, telling her she needs to concentrate on her work.

Betty can’t concentrate on her work. Kevin tells her of his fear for his father, how some note turned up at Pop’s telling the town not to sin for forty-eight hours. He says his father isn’t sleeping, disappears at all hours of the night.

Betty worries that her theory was right. If someone could get into the police station to kill the Sugar Man, maybe that meant they were a police officer. Maybe the Black Hood was a Sheriff, driven mad by the changes he’d seen to Riverdale, driven to punish beyond the law.

She hopes she’s wrong, for Kevin’s sake; but if she’s right, it could all be over.

She decides to recruit Veronica.

“He’s having an affair!” Veronica pipes up instantly.

“What? No!” says Betty. “Think about it, V, he-”

“Betty,” says Veronica, putting a calming hand on her knee. “Please, listen to me, okay? I trusted you when Jughead asked me to let you fight me. Now I need you to trust me.”

“Okay,” replies Betty cautiously.

“I think you need to take a step back from this,” says Veronica. “You’ve been through something terrible. It’s completely understandable that you’re trying to find this guy, but Kevin’s dad? Honestly, this is something much more ordinary and mundane, Betty, and I think we should let it go, for Kevin’s sake. Just… please, Betty.”

Betty listens. She asks the Sheriff how the Black Hood got into the station, and his answers make sense. She wants to be wrong, and she’s been wrong before. She decides to let it go, joins Veronica and Kevin for a sleepover at the Pembrooke. 

Cheryl joins them, at Veronica’s invitation. At the start of this year, Betty never could have imagined a sleepover where she’d be glad to see Cheryl, but she welcomes her cousin. She’s glad Cheryl isn’t withdrawing into herself, that she’s here, with people who care about her.

“I was meant to be hanging out with Josie,” she says sourly, “but she had a date.”

They play board games (Cheryl enticed only with the possibility of trouncing them at Monopoly), and they don’t think about the Black Hood, or Nick St Clair, or Riverdale’s impending gang war.

It’s great.

When Jughead and Alice return home, Betty and Hal are both absent. Jughead is a little disappointed that Betty is spending the night away, but he reminds himself that he doesn’t own her, that it’s healthy that she has her friends and connections that aren’t him. He reminds himself that he has Archie – or he should, though he thinks he and Archie have grown apart too much to ever grow back together. There is a fundamental lack of understanding between them that can’t ever be resolved by video games and burgers.

Instead, he has found understanding today, from a truly unexpected source.

Alice spent ten minutes on the phone to Shawshank Prison, before announcing that they’d be admitted shortly after lunch. She took him to Pop’s, and quizzed him about his marks.

“I see you’re top of your class in English,” she said, and her lip curls. Jughead thought on a different person, it might be pride. “And you’re up to date on all your homework?”

“Yes, Mrs C.,” replied Jughead, carefully swallowing his burger so he wouldn’t talk around his food. “Betty always makes sure I do it, even if I forget.”

“Of course she does,” retorted Alice. “I trust her.”

That was a surprising statement. Jughead wondered if Betty knew that.

The prison is a squat, ugly building an hour or two from Riverdale. The wings are symmetrical, surrounding the exercise yard, and Jughead thinks about the Panopticon, how the constant observation at juvie nearly drove him mad. It must be hellish for his father.

They entered the prison, and waited for news on FP’s condition. They got the man himself.

FP was patently fine. Well, he was the same wilted prison version of himself (and he was astonished to see Alice), but no-one had beaten the crap out of him. If anything, he looked slightly healthier, after even more time away from booze.

“Jug!” said FP, enthusiastic. “You’re here again? It’s good to see you, boy, good to see you haven’t forgotten your old man!”

Jughead’s stomach lurched with guilt. He hadn’t forgotten his dad; he loved his dad. He was just scared of the fact that people across both sides of the town think he’s fated by genetics and destiny to follow in his footsteps.

“Jughead received a phone call,” said Alice, brutally frank, “from Penny Peabody, telling him that you’d been beaten up in the prison showers.”

FP looked blank for a second, and then _snarled._

“You stay away from that woman, Jug,” he said, and he leaned closer to the window so Jughead can see every hair in his stubble, the unusually clear eyes. “You hear me, Jug? She’s poison. She’s just trying to hook her fangs into you. Alice – my kid, you’re looking after him, right? You’ll make sure Penny doesn’t get anywhere near him?”

Alice scoffed.

“You think I’d let her near him?” she said. “FP, my memory isn’t that short. I wouldn’t let that bitch near him even if he _didn’t_ mean so much to Betty. You know Jughead’s top of his class in English? He’s got a bright future, FP, just like…”

Her voice trailed off. Something passed between his dad and Alice then, some strange message without words.

FP blinked, breaking their silent communion, and turned to Jughead.

“That true, boy?” he said hoarsely, and blinked. His dad swallowed, and pressed his hand on the glass. “I’m real proud of you, Jug. You keep that up, you hear?”

“Yeah,” said Jughead. “Yeah, Dad, I will.”

His dad was a criminal. His dad kidnapped Cheryl’s brother, even if he didn’t kill him, even if Clifford threatened Jughead to coax him along. His dad ran drugs and controlled half the Southside through a gang.

His dad really loved him, and wanted to keep him away from the Serpents.

Alice turns on the lights in the kitchen, and beckons Jughead in.

“I know you’re hungry,” she says tiredly. “Can you… would you mind snacking from the fridge? I don’t mind what you eat, I just… I ought to explain where I’ve been all day to Hal, and see what work I’ve missed.”

Jughead takes his beanie off.

“Mrs Cooper,” he says. “I don’t know if I’ve said it enough, but I’m so grateful for all of this. I’m really… I don’t know what would have happened to me if you hadn’t let me stay here.”

“Jughead-” Alice starts.

“No, please,” he says, wincing as he interrupts her. “I know it must be hard, having me in the house as well as everything else going on. And today, and with the Serpents, Tall Boy and Penny and all of it… Twice, at least, you’ve stopped me doing stupid things when I’m really scared, Mrs Cooper, and I just… I just want you to know that I…”

“Jughead,” says Alice again, and she gives him a soft smile that he’s only ever seen her give to Betty and Polly. “You probably didn’t know that I grew up on the Southside. That I… I knew a lot about the Serpents.”

Jughead doesn’t say anything to that. 

“So I know, believe it or not, what it’s like to grow up with that hanging over your head,” she says. “And I know how hard it can be to get away from all of that, even if the people on the Southside aren’t… well, I’ve said some terrible things about it over the years that they didn’t really deserve.”

Jughead stares at her. This is the last thing he ever thought he’d hear from Alice. 

“Get some sleep, Jughead,” she says. “You’ve had a hard day.”

After his sandwich, after Alice has disappeared to her study, he retreats to his room. For the first time, he feels like it actually might be _his_ room, not just a room where he’s allowed to stay on sufferance. He misses sleeping with Betty a little, and texts her to say he hopes she’s having fun (and he means it). She sends back a picture of Cheryl and Veronica locked in an epic Monopoly battle, while Kevin cheers them on, and Betty has failed basic capitalism, judging by her admirably small pile of cash. She looks like he’s having fun, and he texts her back a kiss, thinking of how much she deserves a night without worry about the Black Hood. He’s even glad to see Cheryl, knowing how much she’d been through lately. Next time, he might ask if he can come along, because it looks like _fun._ Maybe Archie could come.

Maybe not.

He rolls himself into his sheets, and thinks about his confusion over his dad. Tomorrow, he thinks, he should try calling Jellybean. Hopefully he can avoid his mom. That hurts too much to think about.

He gets a last text from Betty. It’s a kiss. He smiles, and falls asleep.

The following night, all of them sit in Pop’s. Cheryl and Josie are in one booth, Josie talking excitedly about her date with Chuck Clayton. Betty thinks Cheryl looks a little sad, and resolves to be friendly to her at school tomorrow. Across the table from her, Archie and Veronica are holding hands. She hopes Archie has been better; he says he’s spending more time with Fred, working on construction and practising the guitar that he’d let fall by the wayside in his foray into ‘street justice’.

Betty really hopes it’s the truth.

Jughead sits by her side, munching fries like it’s the first time he’s eaten in days. He told her all about the visit to his father, this Penny Peabody woman, Alice’s surprising sympathy. She’s proud of her mother. She thinks maybe, there, things are beginning to take a turn for the better.

Pop picks up the phone.

It’s the Black Hood.

They’ve failed, and now he says the reckoning has come upon them.

“I don’t understand,” says Betty. “Nothing’s happened. None of us have done anything terrible, have we?”

They all shake their heads, mystified.

But there’s a man at the next table who puts his head in his hands, two women across the room who look away from each other like they’re embarrassed. Pop looks like he’s going to cry, as his entire diner retreats into bitter self-recrimination.

“Of course,” says Jughead sadly. “We aren’t the only people in Riverdale.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yo I fucking hate canon alice. i'm all about sympathetic alice when she makes her infrequent appearances. NICE ALICE NICE ALICE.
> 
> also as much as I've enjoyed some stories, I am perpetually confused when people write horndog Jug? I mean, boy goes out with betty and they don't sleep together for a good while. cold sprouts himself said he performed jughead as not really into toni, just sad and confused, and it barely went anywhere (what's a pg-13 grope fest? an assgrab and maybe a boob?) in canon. jughead jones is not canonically promiscuous in any canon, ever. I mean people are free to write what they want, and i'll probably read it and enjoy it, but it's an odd attribute to inform the character.
> 
> hope his thoughts on sex weren't too cringy
> 
> right so: Cheryl had some friends to talk to, and it helped a little with coping, so she didn't start stalking josie (because I am NOT here for the psycho lesbian plot with its deeply homophobic implications), jughead and archie were never tricked into delivering 'pancake batter', and veronica convinced betty not to go after sheriff keller, because betty is marginally less paranoid with her friends not forced away from her. no-one has any reason to think about the riverdale reaper, as a consequence.
> 
> also does no-one else live in riverdale? imagine being like an ordinary student and you're trying to do your work and fucking archie runs past with a gun and his shirt off and there's a hitman or some shit like that. i'd probably think about putting out a hit on the core four just so riverdale could live in peace for a while.


	9. House of the Devil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FP is released from prison, and Betty and Jughead find themselves dealing with the consequences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so a couple of pretty key things don't happen in this chapter tbh

There is a new and unpleasant tension in the air between Veronica and Archie.

They’d been almost absurdly absorbed in one another lately, since the Black Hood had threatened retribution on the whole town. Jughead had wondered if it wasn’t a defiant joy, if they weren’t throwing themselves at one another with glee, to show the Black Hood that they were alive and they wouldn’t be intimidated. He respected that, to some degree, because he could finally understand how being physically intimate could make you feel sheer joy at being alive. He and Betty are still exploring with one another, more tentative and cautious than Veronica and Archie, but he understands, and was glad for them.

(Cheryl tells them to get a room, when they are grinding on the student lounge’s best sofa. Jughead tries very hard not to laugh, but he catches Cheryl’s eye, and she gives him a half-smile. He spends the next few minutes astonished.)

Veronica was healthy for Archie; she indulged his music when Jughead and Betty couldn’t, but also called him on his bullshit. She was fairly open in all her intentions, and that could hardly be further removed from the manipulative Grundy. She wouldn’t try to mother him, and God knows Archie didn’t need his mommy issues indulged. Jughead had read a bit about the Madonna-whore complex, and he thought that Archie definitely ran the risk of indulging in that.

So, he liked Veronica and Archie, wished them well, was glad his friend had found someone who made him happy and took him away from his dark path of Red Circles and lawless justice. Their new discomfort with one another makes him obscurely unhappy. He’s just grateful that he and Betty feel stronger than ever.

Betty and Jughead sit together in a booth at Pop’s, hands entwined.

“I’m still terrified,” says Jughead quietly. “I feel like any minute the other shoe’s going to drop. I’m so happy with you, Betty. I like living in your house, knowing there’ll be food and I can sleep and I have a place to feel safe. The Black Hood hated me, Betty. He thinks I’m a sinner.”

Betty still hasn’t got a reply to that. Polly has assured her that she’s safe, that the farm has very strict security in place to make sure she can’t be threatened (what kind of farm has that? Never mind), and the phone calls have stopped since Betty’s refusal to cooperate with the Sugar Man. Still, it doesn’t escape her that the Black Hood was very absorbed in Betty’s relationships.

“I think he was keener on isolating me, than threatening you,” says Betty hopefully. “Maybe he’ll leave it alone, now I’m not listening to him. It’s been a while since I stopped pretending to be on the outs with either you or V.”

Jughead nods, but he looks sad. Betty thinks he could use comfort, so she slides around to his side of the booth, and shuffles closer to him. He puts his arm around her, and they sit in comfortable silence for a moment.

Jughead’s phone rings.

“If it’s that Peabody woman, tell her we’ll call the police,” says Betty.

“It’s not,” says Jughead. “Yeah, hello? Yeah, I’ll accept the charges from Shankshaw.”

The first person they tell is Alice, who goes white.

“Your father?” she says, incredulous. “Did they give a reason?”

“Something about overcrowding, and a review of his case,” says Jughead. He and Betty raced home as soon as the call was done, letting the school know that there was a family emergency. Betty is on the sofa, hands twisted into the sleeves of her sweater. If he weren’t aware of Hal glowering at him – if Hal hadn’t shown signs of resenting his presence in the last week or so – he’d be holding her hands, but instead he faces the Coopers on his feet.

“Hmph,” says Alice.

“That sounds… unusual,” says Hal mildly, but his face, unlike his wife’s, had gone a funny shade of puce.

“I know,” says Jughead. It all sounds incredibly strange to him, and he can’t quite believe it’s happening. He is not even close to sorting out how he feels about it. His first feeling, to his horror, had been dread.

“Well, maybe you can move back to Sunnyside with him,” says Hal. “Won’t that be nice for everyone?”

“Hal!” snaps Alice, just as Betty casts a devastated look at her father. “No-one is making any kind of arrangements like that yet! Jughead,” she says. “What do you want?”

“Mom,” says Betty. She and Jughead have already talked, and Jughead is too ashamed to admit that he wants to stay here, and not with his father. “We can go and get FP, right? I can take the station wagon, and we’ll treat him to Pop’s-”

“I’ll drive,” interrupts Alice. “Two children can’t pick a former convict up from jail. Hal, you can manage without me, right?”

Hal shoots her a poisonous grin.

“Of course, Alice,” he says. “If that’s what you think is best.”

Jughead loops his arm through hers on the walk to school. It’s funny; before they were a thing, Betty remembers a Jughead who held himself aloof from all of the other kids, veered out of the way to avoid touching them. Now, he seems to relish the feeling of her close to him.

Betty attempts to snuggle into his arm, and nearly loses her balance. He laughs at her, despite his misery, and she melts.

“What am I going to do?” he says despondently. “Betty, I… I don’t want to go back to Sunnyside. I know I’ll be letting my dad down, and rejecting my childhood home, but… things were starting to get better. That’s never happened to me before.”

“Oh, Jug.”

“But,” he sighs, “my dad is doing better. What if me not going back there sends him back down the same path? What if I can keep him on the straight and narrow this time? I can’t just abandon him, Betty.”

“You can’t think that,” says Betty immediately. “You don’t deserve to live like that. Your life can’t be hostage, Jug.”

“But maybe it’s for the best.” Jughead sounds truly miserable now. “Your dad hates me.”

“He doesn’t hate you.”

Betty’s not sure it’s true. Hal has taken to criticising Jughead’s presence lately, implying that he’s a burden on the household, when everyone else knows that isn’t true.

“I’m making your parents argue.”

“My parents have always argued. You’ve just never seen it.” And Alice has seemed more determined to defend Jughead than ever, since Penny Peabody tried to trick him into some scheme.

Betty grasps his arm tighter. She doesn’t want their little happy bubble to end. She doesn’t want him on the other side of town, far away from the comfort of their shared life. She worries her dad’s hostility will persuade Jughead where his tangled affections for his own father won’t. Hadn’t they already had enough, with the Black Hood?

“My, uh, my dad’s getting out of jail,” says Jughead.

“Jughead, that’s great!” says Archie. Jughead gives him a half-smile; Archie has apparently noticed that Jughead might not think the same thing.

“Congratulations,” says Veronica thinly. She went through much the same thing with her own father, and Jughead knows from the blonde smiling uncomfortably beside him that Veronica’s feelings towards Hiram are at least as ambiguous as his own towards FP. “How did this miracle occur, may I ask?”

“Overcrowding at the jail,” says Jughead, thinking it’s the strangest thing he’s heard. “A judge reviewed my dad’s case, said he thought the coercion from Clifford Blossom about, uh, me, was more mitigating than the original verdict, and… yeah. It was a perfect storm, I guess.”

He doesn’t know what to make of this. He should never have mentioned to Betty that he felt happy and safe. This has the possibility of changing everything.

“What do you need from us?” asks Archie eagerly.

“Not much,” says Betty, taking over from Jughead, who is getting stuck in his thoughts. “Just, you know, if neither of us can make it in, can you drop off homework or something? We just thought we’d let you both know.”

Archie and Veronica exchange an uncertain glance. They are refusing to touch, to make eye-contact for more than a few seconds. Jughead reaches out to hold Betty, and worries about how quickly things can change.

They pick FP up at the jail, all three of them. FP blinks comically at the sight of them, and lurches forward to wrap Jughead in a hug. Jughead looks incredibly uncomfortable, as his skinny arms hang loosely around his father’s shoulders. FP seems to register the discomfort, and slowly lets go of his son, looking pained. Betty’s heart breaks for both of them, and she reminds herself that even though FP helped in Jason’s death, he did it for Jughead.

“Is it true that men who’ve just got out of jail are incredibly sexually frustrated?” asks Alice. Betty stares at her mom in horror, but FP seems to take it as a joke. Jughead exchanges a bemused look with Betty, and they all clamber into the station wagon. FP smells like cheap soap and detergent, without the faint smell of sweat and beer that Betty remembered from her brief trip to the trailer, or the woodsy cologne he’d worn to their house, on the night of Homecoming.

The same night he was arrested. 

Betty clutches Jughead’s hand, pulls it into her lap. He gazes at her, so soft and grateful that the thought of not seeing him at home hurts her chest when she breathes.

At Pop’s, there is an awkward silence until their food arrives, and FP tears into his meal like – well, like a man released from prison. In that moment, Betty can see his son very clearly in FP’s features, and wonders how selfish she is, to want Jughead to herself when he’s thinking of going home to his father.

“So, FP,” says Alice, and Betty thinks _oh no, here we go_. “I take it you’ll be rejoining the Serpents.”

“No,” says FP sternly, and swallows his mouthful. “No, Alice, I won’t. I need to be a better father figure for Jughead.”

Jughead stares at him in astonishment.

“Oh, and how will you be spending your free time, then?”

“I was thinking of getting a job here, actually,” says FP, gesturing at the diner. “Hold down a proper job. I haven’t drunk since I was arrested, and I’m not planning to start again. Jughead deserves better than that.”

Jughead flushes, and Betty sees a hint of a smile appear on his face. Her heart sinks. She knows that Jughead will try to do the right thing, and go home with his father. She shouldn’t try to stop him, and it’s not like she’s losing him. Not really.

FP asks him where his bike is, and if he wants to go for a ride. Jughead doesn’t have great fondness for his dad’s years as a biker, but he still loves the sensation of riding, and Alice drops Jughead off at the house so he can drive the bike back to Sunnyside. His dad’s already fired up, his bike perfectly maintained (probably by the Serpents), and they head off to Sweetwater. Jughead doesn’t know if his dad’s aware of the irony of overlooking the river where FP had so successfully failed to dispose of a body.

“You been alright when I’ve been inside, boy?” asks FP. Jughead tries to give him a brief rundown of the Black Hood’s reign of terror over the town, of his and Betty’s desperate attempts to stop him, as well as Archie’s idiocy and the simmering tension between the two sides of the town. FP swears, and promises to try to calm things down.

“But you haven’t joined the Serpents, Jug?” he says, and he looks earnest. “When my dad, your granddad, when he was at his worst, he threw me out, and the Serpents treated me like a family. But you know what, Jug? Families ain’t perfect. Me and your mom sure let you and Jellybean down. I want you to stay out of it, boy. You’re still writing, yeah?”

“Yeah,” says Jughead, thinking of hours of sitting peacefully in Betty’s window seat. “I write every day.”

“You’re a clever boy,” says FP, sighing. “You use that brain of yours, go to college. I want you to be the first Jones to get away from this life.”

They don’t mention where Jughead will be staying. Jughead’s heart is full, thinking of the faith his father has in him; but then he remembers the video of Clifford shooting Jason, tied up by FP in the basement of the Whyte Wyrm.

Jughead’s potential departure from their household is not discussed the first night, other than by Hal and Alice in hissed tones. Instead, Betty creeps into his room and clings to him, trying not to blurt out that she loves him and she doesn’t want him to go. The next day strikes Betty with an equal sense of limbo. They go to school perfectly normally, watch Archie and Veronica alternate between ignoring one another and overcompensating massively, until most people leave the student lounge because it’s too uncomfortable to watch. Veronica says she’ll explain when things have calmed down a little.

Cheryl marches into the student lounge with a smirk on her face, and Betty’s heart sinks. She opens her mouth to tell Cheryl what has happened, but finds that Jughead has got there before her. He wears the same resigned expression that she remembers from his apology to Cheryl before.

“Cheryl,” he says. “You deserve to know.”

“Deserve to know what, Ponyboy?” asks Cheryl, flashing her terrifying eyes at him.

“FP,” he says baldly. “My dad. He was released from jail. He’s going to work at Pop’s.”

Cheryl goes even whiter than her usual shade of porcelain.

“Oh,” she says, and sinks into a chair. “May I ask why?”

“I don’t know,” says Jughead dully. “Overcrowding, and a newly sympathetic judge, I guess? I’m… I’m sorry. I know he’s done terrible things to your family, and I’m sorry.”

Cheryl sighs, and covers her face.

_“My_ father did terrible things to my family,” she says, and Betty can’t help but try to comfort her. Cheryl accepts the arm round her shoulders, and sniffs. “He was trying to protect you, Jughead.”

“That doesn’t make it okay,” says Jughead.

“No,” replies Cheryl. “No, it doesn’t.”

She fixes Jughead with a serious look.

“It isn’t right,” she says. “But thank you for telling me, Jughead.”

FP already has a shift at Pop’s that evening. Cheryl is noticeably absent, texting Betty that she needs some time to decide what to do about this turn of events. Neither Jughead nor Betty can blame her, nor can they blame the people who look at FP (in his white uniform) warily.

A blonde woman walks in, and FP seems startled and unhappy to see her. She’s clad in the familiar Serpent’s jacket, and she takes FP aside to talk to him.

“Who’s that?” asks Betty.

“I don’t know,” Jughead responds. “She’s not one of the Serpents I’ve seen around, but I mainly hid from them, so… you know. That’s more a failure of research than anything else.”

Betty kisses him. His occasional cowardice amuses her.

The conversation doesn’t seem to go that well, and the woman leaves with a smirk, while FP shakes his head.

“It, ugh, seems like they’re going to have a party for me at the Whyte Wyrm, to celebrate my release,” he says. “I was thinking of making it sort of a retirement thing.”

“We’ll come!” says Betty brightly. She doesn’t want Jughead to think she rejects his dad. If Jughead really does move away, she’ll need to get used to the Southside. The Serpents terrify her, but she thinks they should do this, let FP have his goodbye, and try to move on with their lives without it hanging over them.

“Betty,” says Jughead reluctantly.

“Yeah,” says FP. “Maybe… Maybe you should.”

Betty asks Veronica and Archie if they want to come, but Jughead thinks, if there is anyone more out of place in the dingy Whyte Wyrm than his own girlfriend and her mother, it’s Veronica the heiress. And that’s not even to consider Archie, who decided that wandering around with a gun and starting turf wars was a good idea. In the end, it’s just him, Betty and Alice who make their appearance at the Whyte Wyrm. Alice is dressed up for the occasion, her pastel twinsets and defined lines swapped for something softer, darker make-up and looser clothes. She looks shy, greeting a few old acquaintances carefully, and staying close to Betty and Jughead.

It’s a strange party. The Serpents are jubilant, having recently regained ground from the Ghoulies, as well as seeing FP free from jail. Jughead feels terribly out of place; but it’s a familiar kind of out of place, the same way he felt in the locker rooms at school when the Bulldogs had just quashed their opponents and he didn’t care, wasn’t interested in being part of the team. The people here are looking for the same kind of connection as the people on the Northside, but they’ve banded together as a group of outsiders, rather than the middle-class elite. 

FP gets on stage.

“Speech!” yells someone. Jughead thinks he can see Toni, Sweet Pea and Fangs, the Serpents who insisted on paying him visits at Riverdale High, somewhere in the back of the crowd. 

FP smiles, although it looks pained.

He slurs through the speech, and Jughead realises to his horror that his father is drunk again, that all of his promises yesterday meant nothing.

“That’s why,” FP shouts, raising a glass, “I’m announcing that I’m not retiring; that I’m returning to the Serpents. To my real family, who never let me down!”

The place erupts with a roar. Jughead catches a glimpse of Tall Boy clapping stoically, before it’s too much for him, and he darts out of the room, pressing fists into his eyes as they burn with tears.

He’s never been enough for his dad. It lasted a single day, before FP was back to his old self. 

The man himself appears in the parking lot, beer in hand.

“You crying, boy?” he says, and laughs harshly. “Good thing you were never a Serpent. You’d never make it through the gauntlet.”

“Why, dad?” demands Jughead. He’s been humiliated enough already. “What happened to everything you said yesterday?”

“I got a taste of Serpent life,” snaps FP. “Got reminded of what it is to be a snake. And you rejected that, Jug. You rejected this family.”

“You rejected our family!” cries Jughead.

“Yeah, well,” says FP. He’s shaking. “I thought about you staying here, boy. Wouldn’t be pretty. Seems like you got a good gig over there, with your pretty girlfriend and a nice house. We’ll work it out with the social worker. Tell her your old man’s a bum, that I’m not a nice stable Northsider who can give you all that shit they grow up with. The Southside was never a place for you, boy.”

“I would’ve tried,” says Jughead. “Dad, I would’ve stayed here, tried to-”

“I know you would,” interrupts FP, sounding broken. “I don’t care. Go home, Jug.”

He turns, and heads back into the Whyte Wyrm. Betty runs past him, out towards Jughead, but FP stops by Alice, says something to her. Alice nods, her face unreadable, and follows Betty out into the night.

They arrive back at the Cooper house just before ten. Hal is in the sitting room, scribbling on a piece of paper.

“I thought he was going to stay with his father,” he says, gesturing dismissively at Jughead.

“Fuck you, Hal,” snaps Alice, and ushers both of them upstairs. Betty draws Jughead into the warm light of her room, and Alice doesn’t even quibble, just closes the door softly behind them.

Betty pushes Jughead to sit on the bed, takes his shoes off for him, makes him lie down. He’s unresponsive, exhausted and broken by his father’s total rejection.

She feels guilty. She wanted him here with her, but not like this.

Her phone rings. It’s Veronica, crying.

_“I broke up with Archie,”_ she says _. “My parents got a letter from the Black Hood and he said he loved me and I couldn’t say it back, Betty, I’m not there yet, and they wanted him around more and we just got worse and worse and he kept pushing me and getting angry and I… I just couldn’t do it anymore, B, I told him we should stop dating_.”

Betty looks through her window. Archie is gazing at her, his face innocent and appealing. It’s the puppy-dog look she remembers from her childhood, the one he used when he wanted a favour or her forgiveness.

She draws the curtains in fury, and sits by Jughead.

“Archie’s a dick,” she says fervently. Jughead looks up at her in surprise. “You did the right thing, V. If you aren’t ready for… that, then you just aren’t, and he’s not allowed to make demands and bitch you out about it.”

_“No,”_ said Veronica, laughing damply _. “He’s not. How was your evening? Distract me. Tomorrow you’re coming to the Pembrooke so I can bore you with stories of horrible boyfriends._ ”

“Not good,” says Betty, stroking the hair that pokes out under Jughead’s beanie. He lets her push the hat all the way off, moves into her touch like an affectionate cat. “It, uh, it really sucked, V.”

“ _You want to tell me all about it, or is this more of a sleepover kind of conversation_?”

“Can it wait til tomorrow? It’s just… it’s a really bad time, V, I’m sorry.”

“ _Yeah,”_ says Veronica kindly. _“I can definitely get a bit of healthy misandry from Cheryl, and I’m sure she’ll love the gossip. And hearing from you that he’s a dick means a lot to me._ ”

“He is a dick,” Betty insists. It almost draws a smile across Jughead’s wan face. “Can you ask Cheryl along tomorrow as well? There’s… something she should hear about.”

“ _I’ll invite Kevin,”_ says Veronica _. “We can watch shitty rom-coms and be rude about men_.”

“That sounds… fun,” says Betty, but Veronica deserves her swoop into girly stereotype. “Goodnight, V. I’m really sorry.”

Veronica sighs, and puts the phone down.

“Why is Archie a dick?” asked Jughead thinly. It’s the first thing he’s said since choking his way through an explanation of what his dad said to him.

Betty explains briefly, and Jughead summons enough energy to roll his eyes.

She manages to get the rest of his clothes off, now he’s more responsive, and then wrestles down to her underwear. Jughead looks at her bare skin, and closes his eyes.

“Would you mind if we…” he says, and then trails off. “Can we just… stay like this?”

His arm snakes – moves – around her waist, and draws her closer to him. Betty thinks she understands. It isn’t sexual; he just wants to feel close to her.

She slides under the covers next to him, and wonders why both of their fathers are so cruel. It’s her turn to hold him as he cries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah yes, the ol' serpent dance didn't occur, and jughead never had any reason to be blackmailed by penny
> 
> but someone else diiiiiiid
> 
> also alice is more chill, sorry for anyone who was expecting serpent alice but I never understood why she spent this episode like I AM A SEXY SERPENT WHO IS WELCOMED BACK WITH OPEN ARMS and then immediately reverts to bitching about them 
> 
> i'm really struggling to put veronica and archie in this? they were always off doing their own thing, unless betty called archie and got his genuinely meaningless help?
> 
> also what the fuck is up with the weather in riverdale right? from the end of season one, in what, late October, it's covered in snow. then in house of the devil, betty's chilling outside in a little sleeveless blouse and a miniskirt in the middle of the night. then in the next episode it's suddenly Christmas, and it's snowing again? I know the writers just wanted to write half-naked betty stripping into the scene because they do nothing if not pander to the male gaze, but shouldn't there be some kind of consistency in the weather?


	10. Silent Night, Deadly Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Black Hood makes one final attempt to manipulate Betty, and everything changes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the most famous thing from the Silent Night, Deadly Night franchise is the line 'GARBAGE DAY?!' and I think it's just beautiful that they used it for this episode
> 
> though on reflection I actually don't mind it that much anymore, I just hate the writing in general

“Betty, wake up, it’s Christmas! He’s here!”

Betty wakes unhappily, knowing she’s missing something. Polly stands at the end of her bed, arms spread wide.

“Who’s here, Polly?” she asks. 

She heads downstairs to see her mother and father by the Christmas tree, arms linked, looking happy. Polly stands beside them, proud and slender, and Betty knows again that something is wrong. Her movements feel too slow, sticky and painful, and she sees a red-suited figure hunched in the corner.

“…Santa?” she says tremulously, unable to believe it. It’s all wrong.

The man straightens, knife dripping with blood, and crawls towards her. Words won’t come out of her mouth, and she reaches for her family helplessly, fighting against her own body.

Her parents lie on the floor, their throats cut. Polly’s eyes are open, sightless, like Jason’s corpse on the video.

The Black Hood is coming for her, and she can’t move.

 _Get up get up get up get up get_ -

Betty gasps, and startles awake, breath ripping into her lungs. Jughead, stretched out beside her, is awake instantly, sitting bolt upright like he’s expecting a fight.

“Wha… Dad- Betty!” he blurts, and claps a hand over his mouth. Betty is still struggling to breathe, her chest heaving as she panics. _It isn’t real,_ she reminds herself. _Mom and Dad are fine. Polly’s safe, miles away from Riverdale._

Jughead looks at her in consternation, his hands reaching for her uncertainly, like he doesn’t know if he should touch her or not. She reaches for him wordlessly, mouth still wide open to get as much oxygen into her lungs as she can.

“Is it a panic attack?” he asks quietly, pulling her into a gentle embrace. “What do you need, Betty?”

“Nothing,” she manages to wheeze. “Nightmare. Sorry. Woke you up.”

“This is nothing,” he says. “You should have seen me when my dad would arrive in the middle of the night with a crew of drunk Serpents. Or oversleeping in the closet at school and getting woken up by the janitor smacking the door with the vacuum.”

His voice is light, as he tries to soothe her, but Betty thinks she can detect a hint of bitterness in his voice. Still, his hand on her hair is gentle, lulling her back into sleepiness, and she thinks of how sad she would be to wake here alone, without her boyfriend to coax her back to sleep.

“It’s snowing,” he murmurs, lying back down and taking her with him. “It’ll be a beautiful morning.”

A few hours later, Betty finds herself at the Pembrooke, marvelling over the sheer indulgence of Veronica’s expensive gift-giving. She dreads to think what Veronica has bought her that she’d never be able to repay, far over Kevin’s twenty dollar allowance, and looks at the other presents in consternation.

“Is this a gift for Archie?” she asks. Veronica looks pained. She and Archie are decidedly unreconciled, and the atmosphere in their friendship group has struggled since their break-up earlier in the month.

“I bought it before… well. Friends can give each other gifts, can’t they? And it’s not like we’re not friends.”

Betty nods, and wonders what it is. Poor Veronica.

The gift exchange offers no respite for the unhappy former couple. Josie had innocently bought Veronica a gift certificate for a couple’s massage, and Veronica is forced to take it with good humour, joking that she’ll take Cheryl instead. Cheryl looks up sharply at that, with a forced grin on her face.

They all finish exchanging gifts. Betty’s is last, and clearly from Archie. The haphazard wrapping and lashings of tape are his unmistakeable handiwork; and the contents are a familiar read-a-long record that she and Archie used to listen to when they were five.

She doesn’t know what to make of that. She looks at it fondly, and remembers it well, but it seems… well, a bit weird to give her something old like this, unlike everyone else who went to the effort of finding something in the twenty dollar range. Maybe it was meant to be a gift of nostalgia, to remind her of happier times. Either way, it strikes her as a very odd gift.

When Moose and Midge appear at the door, Archie bolts away. Jughead raises his eyebrows, and follows him.

“Arch,” he says. “What was that, back there?”

“Betty’s gift?” says Archie, looking confused.

“No,” says Jughead, trying not to roll his eyes. What a stupid question, to go with a stupid gift. “You running off like that! Didn’t you want to stick around, see how Moose is?”

“Ah,” says Archie, rubbing the back of his neck. “That’s… not to be _that guy_ , Jug, but I… every time I see Moose, I think about the Black Hood. I think about what the Black Hood’s done, all the pain he’s caused to everyone, and I can’t face it, Jug. Think about what he’s done to all of us!”

Jughead thinks about Betty, trembling in his arms last night after her nightmare. He knows she’s struggling, even after their brief respite from Hood nonsense since earlier in the month. He’s tried to check in with Archie as well, and he’s been relieved to see Archie less erratic, although he thinks, guiltily, that since Veronica broke up with him, that he hasn’t been paying much attention to his friend.

“I’m sorry, Arch,” he says. “Have you tried making an appointment with Mrs Burble? There’s been a lot this year, it might be a good idea.”

Archie pulls a face. 

“Yeah, that’s what Dad says.”

“So?”

“So? I don’t know if I need therapy, Jug, I just need to get back on the horse and into the swing of things and-”

“And a load of other clichés, sure, Archie.” Jughead sighs. “Just… think about it, okay? It’s a good idea.”

“Sure,” says Archie dubiously. “Oh, sorry, Mr… sir.”

The new janitor sweeps past them.

In the Blue and Gold, Jughead tells Betty about Archie’s refusal to acknowledge his trauma and his need for help. Betty sighs, and sits on the desk heavily.

“I’ve been trying to get an appointment with Ms. Burble,” she says, “but she’s really busy. And I can’t exactly be like ‘please may I have priority, Ms. Burble, I know you’re dealing with the seniors’ college applications but a serial killer was trying to groom me’!”

Jughead laughs, and holds her closer.

“You should think about it too,” says Betty softly. “You’ve been through… a lot.”

Jughead hasn’t been back to the Southside since his dad’s very public rejection. The baby Serpents haven’t made an appearance since. He is desperately sad that his father’s resolution to do better by him lasted barely a day, that he wasn’t worth it.

All of this, and he’s terrified that he or Betty or one of their friends will be the next to die.

“Maybe,” he says reluctantly. “You could be right.”

Betty gives him a soft grin.

Cheryl knocks on the door.

“Can I speak to you, Betty?” she asks. Betty nods, and ushers her in. 

“Should I… go?” asks Jughead. 

“If you want,” says Cheryl. “I wouldn’t mind speaking to my cousin alone.”

Betty mainly sits there, and just listens.

Cheryl tells her that she’s still angry that FP’s been released, that the only living person who aided in Jason’s death is now living free in the town. She discusses her money problems, her sadness at this being the first Christmas without Jason, her father, or their home. She says Penelope is heartless, unconcerned by Cheryl’s fears, refusing to consider getting a job.

“But then again,” says Cheryl, “then she’d have to admit to herself that the only skill she possesses is being a terrible mother!”

Betty snorts, and Cheryl favours her with a cautious grin. It has been nice to hear Cheryl’s acerbic wit turned on people who actually deserve it, since the end of autumn.

“Well, what jobs are there in Riverdale?” asks Betty thoughtfully. “There’s Pop’s, but…”

“My mother and your boyfriend’s father, working together in those lovely uniforms? Betty, please, we’d end up more _Titus Andronicus_ than the _It’s a Wonderful Life_ I was looking for. I’m not sure you’d want your boyfriend served up to you in a pie.”

Betty thinks Cheryl and Jughead might make better friends than she’s ever given either of them credit for, but she doesn’t mention that.

“Maybe…” her voice trembles. “Maybe I could persuade my parents to have you over for Christmas? I mean, we are family now, so…”

Cheryl gives her a fond, patronising look.

“Betty, I think we both know that that would be a disaster,” she says, “but it’s nice that you would even think about having such a horrible time to cheer moi up. No, Betty, I’ll come up with my own solution to our problems. It’s just… nice to have someone to talk to about it.”

She saunters off with a hair flip and a nod to Jughead. 

“Is she okay?” he asks nervously. Betty nods, dismissing it with a wave of her hand.

“She’s having a hard time, what with all the family upheavals this year,” she says.

“Yeah,” says Jughead. “I can kinda empathise.”

They haven’t yet discussed what he’ll be doing for Christmas, whether he wants to spend the day with the Coopers, or try to make some kind of contact with his father. Betty loops her arm through his, and asks him if he wants to go and see his father soon.

Alice marches through the snow towards FP’s trailer, Betty and Jughead traipsing behind her reluctantly. They mentioned Christmas plans to Alice and Hal, and Hal had immediately suggested that Jughead spend the day where he ‘belonged’, instead of in their house.

“Oh, that’s a great idea, Hal!” Alice had snapped, furious. “The boy’s father refused to make an effort for him, so we should throw him out on Christmas? Why don’t we just go and ask FP what he thinks of that, or are you fine with the idea of a sixteen-year-old sitting on his own in Pop’s while everyone else in the town is with their families? If Pop’s is even open, that is!”

She dragged them out of the house before Hal could say another word, and now they’re here, wading through the snow of the Southside where the municipal snow ploughs hadn’t (or wouldn’t) clear the streets yet.

“Hello, FP,” calls Alice, throwing the door to the trailer open without ceremony. “I’ve brought your son. He wants to ask you a few questions.”

FP, bent over a pile of presents, blinks at them in confusion. He still looks better than he did before his arrest, less booze-sodden, but he looks terribly sad.

“Hi, Jug,” he says. Jughead doesn’t reply. They came here in a fit of temper, and now he finds he has very little to say to his father. “I was just… wrapping some gifts. Thought I might run them over to you, up to Toledo for your mom and sister. Serpents always do a gift-collection for the kids round here, if you’re interested.”

Jughead is speechless at the hypocrisy.

“What the hell, Dad?!” he manages finally. “If you want to do that – if you’re doing all this good stuff – why are you back with the Serpents? Why did you say all of that, the night of the party?!”

“Because!” FP roars, slamming the table and leaping to his feet. Jughead flinches, backs away from his father into Betty. “That bastard Penny Peabody has me trapped, okay, Jug? I have no leverage! She’s holding all the cards here, I have to do everything she wants or…”

“Or what, FP?” prompts Alice. Jughead wondered if she’d already guess all of this, since she doesn’t sound surprised.

FP sighs.

“She’s the one who tipped the judge to get me out of jail,” he admits. “She’s got me over hot coals. She says if I don’t do what she asks, she’ll…”

His voice trails off, and he gestures at Jughead helplessly. Betty clutches his arm, and Jughead thinks he hears her whimper quietly.

“You understand, now, why I want you as far away from the Southside as possible, Jug?” says FP softly. “You’ve got a bright future, all the stuff I hoped for you. I can’t have you here, either tied up with the Serpents or with Penny and her goons waiting to jump you the minute you step out of the trailer, boy.”

Jughead clears his throat.

“I guess I won’t be coming for Christmas, then,” he says weakly. FP laughs, bitter.

“I guess you won’t. Keep them both away from here, Alice,” he asks, fixing Betty’s mom with a look. Alice nods stiffly, turning to usher them out.

“Jug,” calls FP. Jughead turns back briefly, his face like stone.

“I love you,” says FP hoarsely. “I never wanted any of this.”

Jughead nods, and they leave the Southside, possibly for good.

Betty drops her latest present with a scream, backing away from the box. Jughead hauls her away from the grisly relic, trying to clasp his hand over her eyes as she gulps air in his arms.

“Alice!” he yells. “Mrs Cooper!”

Alice runs in, her eyes wide with panic. When she sees the severed finger on her daughter’s floor, with the accompanying note, she looks as if she’s about to faint.

“Don’t touch anything, you two,” she orders. “I’m calling Sheriff Keller.”

Betty’s phone rings, but Jughead hurls it out of her reach before she can get to it. 

“Jug,” she says pitifully. She just wanted to come home and discuss everything that his father had said, see where his head was, but instead, he’s trying desperately to protect her from the latest horror to invade the house.

“No, Betty,” he says. “I don’t care what that son of a bitch was trying to tell you. None of this is your responsibility. Let the police deal with it, please, Betty, I… we can’t do this!”

Sheriff Keller turns up to find them curled up together on the far side of the room from Betty’s gift. He questions them individually, but gently, once the evidence has been removed and Betty’s room has been cleared. He’s sympathetic, promises to let them know as soon as he has any evidence; but Betty knows that a severed finger’s print is distorted once it’s removed from the body.

She can’t bring herself to give him her phone and let him know how much the Black Hood’s been calling her.

Alice lets them stay home from school the next day. Betty refuses to go into her room, until she cleans it completely and throws her sheets out in a fit of rage. Jughead stays by her side, quiet and introspective. Alice and Hal argue downstairs.

At school, Veronica tells Betty that she’s reached a new understanding with her parents.

“I think… I think I’ve been going about this all wrong,” she says. “I’ve been trying to work against them, when what I should have been doing is trying to bring them around from the inside. I’m going to try getting closer to them, seeing what they’re up to, then maybe I can… y’know. Persuade them to do better. I’ve already started, using their money for something good instead of… whatever.”

“For what, V?” asks Betty.

Veronica shakes her head.

“Not until I know I can trust them,” she says.

The door to the student lounge flies open, and Cheryl storms in, her face lit with enthusiasm.

“Sheriff Keller came over last night to question my Nana Rose!” she crows. “Apparently, they’ve got this new theory about Mr _Svenson,_ the janitor here apparently, because he’s gone missing and he was linked to these murders that my Nana saw back in the day!”

Betty gulps. Was that poor Mr Svenson’s finger that had been delivered to her? Was Mr Svenson, the strange janitor, now in the Black Hood’s clutches, or dead, or worse?

That night, news goes around that Svenson is dead. Not just dead, either: he was gunned down by the police, because he was _the Black Hood_.

It’s over.

Betty feels like she should be able to breathe a sigh of relief; but her chest remains tight, like there’s a stone resting on it (and not just her boyfriend’s head, when he dozes on top of her). Mr Svenson? It seems so unlikely, so anti-climactic.

Archie thinks so too, as they sit in a booth at Pop’s and discuss things.

“Mr Svenson?” he says doubtfully. “I… I mean I’m still the only person who really saw the Black Hood, right? Wouldn’t I have noticed if they were the same person?”

“Memory and perception are funny things, Archiekins,” says Veronica wearily. “I’m still grossed out that he would cut off his own finger.”

“Cheryl said Mr Svenson accused the wrong man of murder, when he was a little boy,” muses Betty. “Maybe it was like… the finger of accusation.”

Yeah, she knows how ridiculous that sounds.

“I guess it makes some sense,” says Jughead. “He would have been around all of us, the whole time we were at school, and we just wouldn’t have noticed. Could’ve seen you and Grundy, Archie, Moose and Midge getting Jingle Jangle, me living there… And we just ignored him, because who pays attention to cleaning staff, right?" He scoffs. "The only thing I don’t get is Fred, but… oh well. You know what, I’m just going to be grateful it’s him in a body bag, and none of us; although it does seem harsh that none of these people ever seem to face due process.”

It’s true, Betty thinks. Riverdale never seems to bring its victims real justice.

Christmas morning dawns bright and beautiful, with picturesque snow-covered lawns all over the town. Josie and Kevin go carolling, and the Christmas trees that Fred delivered adorn houses the length of Elm Street. Veronica texts Betty a picture of the locket that Archie bought for her, asks Betty if she thinks she should forgive him.

 _Maybe not_ , thinks Betty, but she texts Veronica some meaningless platitudes, because Archie has had a bad few months and might not deserve her condemnation.

Her own present for Jughead waits under the tree with the other presents. He opens it and stares in delight at the vintage Underwood, running his hands reverently over the keys.

“It’s wonderful!” he says, and presses a kiss to her cheek. _“You’re_ wonderful.”

Hal looks away in disgust, although he’s on best behaviour with Jughead in the house for Christmas.

Betty grabs her last present. It’s the one from Jughead. It looks like another book, although she gets the impression that it might be a bit different from the listen-and-learn she got from Archie.

 _A signed first edition for my beloved,_ it says _. Thank you for introducing me to your favourite author._

She gazes up at him, wondering how he got hold of it. She remembers meeting Toni Morrison in the summer, long before all of their troubles started, long before she’d ever thought she could fall in love with him the way she has. Archie hadn’t even listened to her when she told him how much Toni Morrison had meant to her, too interested in Veronica’s sudden appearance in town.   
Jughead hasn’t just listened; he’s engaged, read it for himself, bought her this beautiful gift with all of its meanings.

_Beloved._

“Thank you,” she says finally. “Jug, it’s… Jug, I love it. I love you.”

Jughead blushes. She leans forwards to kiss him, has to remind herself to stop before she lets the kiss get too heated in front of her parents.

Later that night, she strips in front of him as he watches her with hungry eyes, almost forgetting to close her curtains. She’d never expected him to want her like this, even after they touched each other for the first time, but it seems like since he’s been open to the concept that he likes sex with her, he’s been keener to try the stuff she suggests, or suggest stuff himself. They’ve tried not to risk it too much, for fear of Hal or Alice discovering them; and they both try to shut it down on the nights when they’re fragile, not wanting to turn sex into a response to fear or anguish, but instead keep it as a wonderful, affirming thing between them.

They’ve failed at both before now, but tonight is just for them.

She finds herself on her back in her bed, with her feet dangling above his shoulder blades as he eats her out voraciously, sucking at her clit while his fingers curl inside her. One hand is in his thick hair, raking through the curls, the other over her mouth to hide her gasps and moans.

He’s really, really good at this, she thinks, and feels grateful that she’s the only girl – might be the only girl _ever_ – to be the subject of his intense focus like this.

“Ju- Jughead!” she gasps as she comes. He looks up at her, tongue still lingering on her core, and his eyes are so full of love she thinks she can hardly bear it. She tugs him up for a kiss, intrigued by the taste of her on his lips. She wonders what he will taste like, when she returns the favour.

Jughead doesn’t seem too concerned with that right now, pressing her hand against his cock with a moan into her neck. It doesn’t take him long to come either, arms shuddering on either side of her as he thrusts into her hand and the wetness of her core. He whispers again that he loves her. She purrs it back into his mouth.

She needs to ask Veronica about birth control; she thinks she and Alice aren’t there yet, not after both Alice and Polly got pregnant as teenagers.

Outside, the snow continues to fall. Inside, her room feels cosy and safe, like it was never invaded by a madman with a bizarre obsession with her. Betty tucks herself under Jughead’s arm, and resolves not to worry about it anymore, as he kisses the top of her head. It’s over.

She hopes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> honestly 4x17-4x18 was so unnecessary. this episode showed us the whole archie - idealised childhood nostalgia, jughead - intellectual equal who actually listens to her contrast, but far better, through their differing gifts and the callback to the toni morrison conversation in the pilot, where archie ignored betty and didn't understand her. we didn't need to be shown it again. it was a random regression to something the show established halfway through series 2!!!!!!!!
> 
> i'm so hyped for riverdale season 4 to be over
> 
> hopefully by the time season 5 rolls around I won't be into it anymore so I won't give a fuck about it
> 
> anyway it ended at 4x16 as we all know so whatever


	11. The Blackboard Jungle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the Black Hood, other plans go into motion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> stuff continues to change, because betty has someone to talk to

The town has begun to calm, after the apparent end of the Black Hood, and Jughead sits in Pop’s with a cup of black coffee, waiting on his and Betty’s breakfast orders. Pop is taking the decorations down, and he feels like there should be a sense of freshness, of a new start.

Instead, it feels like very little has changed. The Mayor is still refusing to stop her campaign of cracking down on the Southside, and FP’s return, contrary to Toni Topaz’s hopes, only seems to have inflamed the Serpents. Hiram Lodge has thrown his immense weight behind Mayor McCoy, and the whole town seems like it’s still simmering away.

He comes into Pop’s frequently, in the hopes that he can see his father. He never does. It seems like his job there was a casualty of Penny Peabody too.

Cheryl takes Betty and Veronica aside at school.

“Cousin, Veronica,” she says hurriedly. “What do you think about prostitution?”

“Uh,” says Betty inarticulately.

“Sex work is complex,” replies Veronica instantly. “It’s a reality of life, and we shouldn’t condemn the workers. They should be protected and respected. Why do you ask, Cheryl?”

Betty stares at Veronica in astonishment. She supposes she has similar views, though she could never have articulated them like that herself.

“Hmph,” says Cheryl. “It would appear that, to solve our money problems, my mother has decided to take up sex work, because she lacks any other discernible skills.”

Betty is speechless. The Blossom side of her family never ceases to amaze her.

“I don’t know what to think about it,” says Cheryl. “I mean… I’m not comfortable with it happening in the same house, and I don’t like the fact that my mother might not be doing this if it weren’t for our money situation, but… she seems, I don’t know, sort of happy? She’s content with it, and she’s earning money. How can I condemn that?”

She seems completely unsure, dejected, and Betty has, as per usual, no idea what to tell poor Cheryl. She understands her discomfort with the situation, but thinks she can see where Cheryl’s sympathy is coming from.

“If she’s safe, and okay with it…” Veronica’s voice trails off. “Cheryl, I can’t really understand what it’s like not to have money, so I don’t think I’m in any position to judge. I mean, I’ve just, Archie’s dad’s med- You know what, I don’t think I should talk about this until I’ve talked to Archie.”

“You and Archie?” says Cheryl, one immaculate eyebrow raising. “I didn’t know there was, uh, détente there. Or, dare I say it, glasnost and perestroika?”

“There is,” says Veronica, smiling gently. “He and I have decided to give things another go.”

Betty smiles at her weakly, and exchanges a look with Cheryl. 

She doesn’t think it’s a jealousy thing, when she feels like Veronica is making a mistake there. She remembers Archie’s almost instant reversion to nostalgia about their childhoods after the break-up, that disconcertingly personal gift at the Secret Santa, all of which disappeared the second Veronica was open to a reunion.

It’s not a great look for Archie.

“Interesting,” says Cheryl, her tone brittle. “Well, there’s your beau now.”

Veronica gives Cheryl a smile, and heads off in Archie’s direction.

“I don’t like it,” says Cheryl, watching the two of them, her eyes lingering on Veronica. “Archie is… well.”

“Well,” says Betty. She loves Archie, loves the little boy that he was during their childhoods, and she’s worried about him, since everything he went through over the autumn. But a little bit of her is beginning to wonder if he’s…

Well.

The speaker overhead bleeps for an announcement.

_Effective immediately,_ says Wetherbee’s stern voice _, Southside High will be shutting down, and its students will be transferring to other schools in the district, including Riverdale_.

Betty looks instantly at Cheryl, who goes pale, and Jughead, whose eyes have widened almost comically.

“My home life is already a Dickensian nightmare,” snaps Cheryl. “Can I not escape it here as well?!”

Jughead just gulps, no doubt wondering what the junior Serpents will have to say to him after his father’s very public reaction, and the weeks of working under Penny Peabody’s aegis.

Veronica, to her credit, immediately starts trying to calm people down, coming up with logical reasons for the closure, and suggesting that they welcome the Southside students with open arms. Betty’s proud that her friend is open-minded enough to suggest that, that she wants to defuse the tensions and problems that will inevitably appear. Veronica seems very dedicated.

Jughead is in the Blue and Gold, head resting in his hands. He’d moved his typewriter in here, after Hal had made one too many passive-aggressive comments about the noise of the keys, but inspiration eludes him. The thought of Toni, Sweet Pea and Fangs present at school every day scares the crap out of him. It would have scared him before he knew that the Serpents are being forced further into drug deals, under his dad’s deal with Penny Peabody. Now he’s terrified.

Betty walks in. 

“Veronica’s making a really serious effort to calm everyone down,” she says, “But I think Cheryl’s going to go on the warpath, Jug, and I’m struggling to blame her.”

“Do you think I can, like, just hide for the rest of school?” asks Jughead. “Sweet Pea – the big one – he might kick the crap out of me if he sees me.”

“We’ll just have to stop him,” says Betty. “Maybe it will be good for the Serpents to get away from the Southside, maybe it’ll be good for Northsiders and Southsiders to hang out together.”

“Your optimism is cute,” says Jughead wryly, “But has Reggie Mantle ever accepted me, a lone, non-Serpent Southsider? What do you think the Bulldogs will think when there’s another group for them to fight with? We’ll be lucky if the dick-swinging in the corridors stays metaphorical, Betty.”

“You’re patronising,” says Betty, irritated.

“Sorry.” Jughead knows she’s right, but she can’t quite understand how uneasy this makes him. It makes her uneasy, too, but she’s always tried to see the best in people. She’s been on the tail end of shit from Cheryl and the other Vixens, but Jughead’s seen the pack mentality of both the Serpent kids and the Bulldogs, and he wonders just how much worse it will get now the two groups aren’t divided by town lines. “I’m just really worried about this. Although… I mean, your optimism is cute. Sometimes it makes me more optimistic by osmosis.”

“Shut up,” says Betty, but she sounds less annoyed. “Come on. Let’s go home, and maybe we can make some kind of game plan for the Southsiders getting here tomorrow.”

The house is silent when they enter. Betty’s parents are absent, and Betty thinks this might be an opportunity for her and Jughead to-

There is a noise overhead. Betty instantly grabs her pepper spray, jostling with Jughead to get up the stairs first, although he retreats when he sees her armed.

The intruder is a distinctly not-pregnant Polly, packing some of her leftover belongings into a box.

“Polly!” gasps Betty, darting forwards, only to drop back. “You had the babies? You didn’t tell us?!”

Polly is serene, unconcerned by how she will break Alice’s heart.

“The Farm thinks it’s best if I sever all links with my family,” she says enthusiastically. Jughead thinks it sounds a little like a cult.

“Polly, that sounds like a cult,” says Betty, and Jughead is inappropriately proud of how in tune they are. 

“It’s not a cult,” says Polly, rolling her eyes as if she’s heard that a lot. “Juniper and Dagwood can grow up there, without stigma, too. They’re healthy and happy.”

“Juni…” Betty’s voice trails off. “Polly. Don’t you think you’re being cruel? Kind of… vindictive? Mom’s really trying these days.”

Polly pauses.

“I’m sorry, Betty,” she says. “I just can’t bear to stay here anymore. There are too many bad memories.”

Jughead thinks he can understand that, although he does think Polly is choosing the wrong escape route. Polly disappears, after Betty reclaims her nightlight.

“Ugh!” she says. “I can’t believe Polly. Doesn’t it matter to her, everything I did to bring her home? I mean… couldn’t she even let us know? This whole ‘cutting ties with family’ thing sounds like bullshit! How can she just… leave us, drop us like this?”

“She wouldn’t be the only one,” says Jughead bitterly.

“Oh, Jug,” says Betty sadly. “I’m sorry. That was undiplomatic.”

“No, no,” says Jughead. “It’s true. I just… I guess, Betty, what we’ve seen in the last few weeks should have let us know that family… biological family doesn’t mean that much to some people.”

“Hmm,” says Betty. “I guess not.”

“Closing down Southside High like this is very suspicious,” says Alice, as she prepares dinner. She’s spent the evening pumping Betty and Jughead for information, asking them what the atmosphere is like at school now that they know. The Register is preparing a story on it, but the Mayor is being extremely coy about the reasons for the closure.

“Mayor McCoy being coy,” mutters Jughead. “Imagine.”

They do not tell Alice about Polly’s visit.

Jughead and Betty decide to avoid the house that evening, the guilt of hiding Polly’s appearance dragging on both of their minds.

“May I take Betty out on the bike?” asks Jughead nervously. “We’ve both got helmets, and I’m fully qualified now.”

Alice sighs.

“I imagine if I ban it, you’ll disobey me,” she says, a hint of humour in her tone. “Pop’s and back. You still have a nine o’clock curfew, both of you.”

Betty gives her mom a sudden hug, and they race off.

Jughead turns off towards the Southside, instead of Pop’s, and pulls up in front of Southside High.

“What are we doing here, Jug?” asks Betty.

“I want to see their explanation,” he says. “Whatever the Southside’s sins, they didn’t deserve this.”

He rips a notice off the boarded-up walls, and stuffs it into his pocket.

At Pop’s, he unfolds the notice (Betty tuts, and smoothes out the creases he’s made).

It seems Southside High has been shut as a public health hazard, due to fumes from the meth lab in the basement.

“That’s bullshit,” says Jughead. “There’s been no meth reported, even on the Southside. It’s all this… Jingle Jangle stuff. And believe me, Betty, I’ve been paying attention.”

“Of course you have,” says Betty, linking her fingers with his. “You’re worried about your dad. You’re allowed to worry about your dad. You’re human.”

“I’m worried about what my dad is doing, Betty,” he sighs. “All the coercion in the world doesn’t change the fact that he was dealing weed and doing Hiram Lodge’s dirty work before all of the rest of it happened.”

“Speaking of parents,” says Betty hesitantly. “I wanted to run an idea by you. What if… what would you think if I tried to find my brother?”

When Veronica sets up a welcoming booth for the Southside students, Betty and Jughead decide to watch from a distance. When she sees Sweet Pea, Fangs and Toni in particular, Betty fears that certainly Jughead's presence, and possibly her own, will inflame this already delicate situation.

“…drink deep from the cup of fair Riverdale,” Veronica finishes, and Jughead slaps a hand over his eyes in horror.

“I can’t think of a worse person to patronise them on their first day,” he says wearily. “Forget that, worse people. Archie pointed a gun at Sweet Pea’s head, Betty.”

“Maybe he’s trying to make amends, Jug,” says Betty. “Maybe he’ll apologise?”

Jughead snorts.

“Stand down, Eva Peron!” 

“Oh, wait,” says Jughead, eyes wide. “I guess there are worse people.”

Cheryl Blossom and Reggie Mantle, flanked by the Vixens and the Bulldogs, all in full uniform, march down the stairs. Cheryl starts to spout vitriol at the Serpents; she bandies about words like ‘scum’, ‘ragamuffins’, like she really is in the Dickens novel she’d mentioned yesterday.

“Oh, no,” murmurs Betty. 

Toni Topaz starts to square up to Cheryl, almost comically small next to Cheryl’s stiletto-heeled height. Astonishingly, Archie tries to step in to defuse things when Reggie kicks off at Sweet Pea; but Sweet Pea has a longer memory than either of them, and reminds them of the rumble, of Archie wilding on the Southside when he started the Red Circle.

Mr Wetherbee finally arrives, having apparently completely ignored the potential for problems up to this point, and disperses the students. They slink off in different directions, with absolutely nothing resolved.

“Well,” says Jughead, “That went about as well as I was expecting. Goddammit, Reggie, Cheryl’s got her reasons to be angry with the Serpents, god knows she does, but… fucking Reggie!”

Betty can’t bring herself to disagree. For a few minutes, it had looked like Kevin, Veronica and Archie’s willingness to welcome the Serpents was going to get things off to a good start, until the combined forces of Riverdale’s elite had turned up to let the Southsiders know exactly how little they thought of them.

“What a bunch of idiots,” she says.

“Wanna hide in the Blue and Gold for the rest of free time today?” asks Jughead. “We can look into… what you talked about last night.”

They hadn’t come to any conclusions on whether or not they should look for Betty’s brother – or Alice’s biological son, rather. Betty is of the opinion that she should find him, and then give Alice the option to go and see him or not.

Jughead, a son abandoned by his mother, thinks that it should be the son’s decision, if he ever decides to find her.

Betty is swayed by that; but she asks him, what will happen if the son wants to find Alice, and he can’t? Couldn’t they just start inquiries, to make it easier for this mysterious brother to find them, if he ever chose to?

“Betty,” says Jughead. “If you think I’m out of line, or I’m wrong, then I’ll support you in whatever you choose to do. I just think… instead of finding a supplementary son, a replacement for Polly, we should tell your mom the truth, and let her try to find a way to cope. I know my situation’s not identical at all, but… when my mom said she didn’t want me, I… I’m not sure I want her in my life any more. That might be how this guy feels.”

Betty sighs, and rests her head on his shoulder.

An announcement comes over the tannoy: _all gang signs and paraphernalia are banned, under threat of immediate suspension_.

“Oh, fuck,” says Jughead. “That didn’t take very long.”

They tell Alice and Hal the same evening.

Hal is silent, glaring at Jughead, and Jughead thinks it’s pretty understandable to be pissed that Jughead saw Polly, while Hal didn’t. Alice cries, and asks why Polly didn’t want them in the children’s lives. Bitter self-recriminations pour from her mouth, about how they’ve failed Polly as parents. Most of them, Betty thinks, are justified.

Mrs Weiss’ telephone number remains in Jughead’s phone, just in case they ever change their minds about finding Alice’s son. Betty thinks they won’t.

Jughead is back in the Blue and Gold the following day, staring in frustration at his typewriter, when the Serpents burst in. Betty looks up, and goes to stand by his shoulder protectively, as if either of them will be much use against a gang.

“Hey,” Jughead says nervously. “Are you interested in signing up to the Blue and Gold? Betty’s the editor, I-”

“Yeah, we’ve got an idea for an article,” says Sweet Pea. “How about the fact that we’re being profiled? We didn’t do jackshit to your stupid Riverdale signs, that was your buddy Mantle.”

“He’s not my buddy,” says Jughead, “although I can believe that. Maybe I can write an article-”

“We don’t want a damn article, Jones,” says Toni. “We come to a good school, with a computer lab, and books that aren’t from the eighties, and fucking functioning toilets, and we’re all prepared to be on our best fucking behaviour, and this is what we get?!”

“This isn’t even a Serpent thing,” says Sweet Pea, and he looks like he wants to punch someone. “This was supposed to be good for us, man, we were, like, excited to come to this fucking Northsider school and get the same shit these guys grew up with.”

“I’m sorry,” says Betty softly. They ignore her, although Toni looks less dismissive than she used to.

“That Blossom girl didn’t want us to bring down the GPA? Great!” says Toni. “We’d actually like that too. You know what? Maybe we do want an article from FP Jones’ son and Alice Cooper’s daughter. Maybe we want someone to listen to us for once, without it being in the middle of an interrogation.”

Jughead pulls the typewriter towards himself, fingers poised on the keys.

“Okay,” says Betty. “What do you want to say?”

Their article gets fewer hits than the one they wrote about Jason, but it’s passed throughout the school, and the Serpents seem quietly pleased with it. Toni and Veronica chat in a friendly fashion in the student lounge, and Toni even gives Betty a smile. Sweet Pea and Fangs don’t but Betty can’t quite picture a smile spreading across Sweet Pea’s perpetually angry countenance.

It turns out, she also couldn’t have pictured what he would look like in a polo shirt and polo neck.

Wetherbee’s response – _Veronica’s_ response, via a donation from her father – is well-meaning, generous, and astonishingly misguided. The sight of the ripped-jean leather-jacketed Serpents wandering miserably through the halls, looking like staff from a country club, is both hilarious, and humiliating simultaneously. 

“V,” says Betty seriously. “I’m not sure this is what anyone had in mind.”

“Why?” says Veronica cluelessly. “They look great. And it’s all great quality, guys. Daddy would never skimp on something like this. He wants the Southsiders to be happy here.”

Archie enters the lounge, his wrist bandaged. Veronica’s eyes narrow.

“Excuse me,” she says. “I need to have a word with Rocky Balboa over there.”

She darts off, none the wiser to Betty’s irritation on behalf of the Serpents. Fangs, the quiet one, had already been suspended for refusing to wear the new clothes. How blind were Veronica and her parents, that they thought this was a good solution for the Southsiders? She’s no huge fan of theirs, (although she understands that most of their actions are driven by the economic pressures of the Southside, rather than… whatever it is that Hiram Lodge is doing at the moment) but this patronising effort at forced conformity, rather than inclusion, is going to fan the tensions, not alleviate pressure.

So she grabs Jughead, marches into Wetherbee’s office, and says that after all of their success with the Blue and Gold, they are going to start a new club, for students who are interested in board games.

The Serpents are not interested in board games. They are, however, interested in having a space for themselves, where they can hang out without being constantly threatened by the Bulldogs. Hopefully, once things calm down, they will be able to integrate more fully into the school, without Veronica’s well-meaning guidance, or Reggie’s hostility.

Cheryl is another story. Her dislike is personal, and somewhat justified, although Betty thought her attempts to verbally slit Toni’s throat were perhaps a little misaimed.

“There’s one thing,” says Jughead, speaking with a confidence Betty knows he doesn’t feel, that same arrogant detachment with which he’d interrogated Dilton Doiley and the boy scouts. It’s his approximation of dominance, and she can see why he rubs people up the wrong way.

Bizarrely, the Serpents stop and listen, and it strikes Betty that it’s because Jughead reminds them of his _father._

“You can’t deal drugs at Riverdale High,” says Jughead authoritatively. “I know someone will be. That can’t be you. If Southsiders are going to survive here, if you’re going to stay at this school with the computers and the working toilets, you can’t be dealing. They will rip you apart, and then rip the rest of the town apart when the Serpents come for revenge.”

It strikes Betty that the best known dealer in school is Reggie Mantle. Perhaps he feels threatened by the competition.

“What would you know about surviving here?” asks Sweet Pea. “You aren’t a real Southsider.”

“I am to them,” retorts Jughead. “I’ve gotten shit for it every day of my life.”

Toni rolls her eyes expressively.

“I’m serious,” says Jughead. “They’ve closed down Southside High, for reasons that aren’t clear yet, and you can’t go back. They’ll just ship you further away from your homes. I don’t care what my dad or Penny Peabody say, okay? You can’t deal here.”

There is a faint hiss at the mention of Penny’s name.

“If you stay here,” says Betty nervously, “You have more of a chance of staying away from Penny.”

She isn’t sure how her speaking up will go, but no-one tells her to shut up. She thinks Sweet Pea looks thoughtful, for once, rather than just angry.

Evidently Penny Peabody’s rule of the Serpents is not going well.

“Also,” says Jughead, and his voice strengthens. “Betty and I are going to try and investigate why Southside High was closed, because there definitely wasn’t a meth lab in the basement. Someone wanted that place closed and… we want to find out why.”

Most of the Serpents ignore them, but Sweet Pea and Toni edge closer.

“I want to find out why,” says Toni. “At first I was happy to go, but… now I just feel like we’re being used as pawns.”

“We’re pawns wherever we are,” spits Sweet Pea. “The Serpents are pawns to Peabody and her boss. We’re pawns here. You fuckin’ bet I want to find out why. We’ll help where we can.”

Jughead sneaks into Betty’s room that night, much later than normal, since Hal was prowling about fairly late. He and Alice have both been sad and quiet today, withdrawn after hearing about Polly. He saw a light on at Archie’s place, wondered what his friend as up to, and thought of texting him.

No, screw it. He’d rather not know. Archie is probably sneaking out to see Veronica; he hasn’t got quite the same advantages as Jughead has when it comes to girlfriend proximity.

Speaking of which.

Betty is all soft and drowsy with sleep. It’s unusual that neither of them is sad, or freaking out about something. Instead, her face is pink from removing her make-up, and she favours him with a lovely, sleepy grin, as he crawls under the covers and readjusts her limbs so he can curl around her in his favourite sleeping position.

“Did we do well today?” she whispers. “With the Serpents. Do you think it will help with everything, Jug?”

“I don’t know,” he says, pressing a kiss to her temple. “I hope so.”

“And I think you were right,” says Betty. “About not going looking for… Alice’s son. It’s a choice he deserves to make, and he’s never come looking for her before. Maybe he doesn’t want to know her.”

“Maybe,” says Jughead. “Maybe one day, we can ask Alice. It just seems unfair to tell her about this now, after so much else is going on.”

“Maybe.”

Betty snuggles further into his arms, and lets a gentle kiss drift across his forearm, before she goes pleasantly limp, and her breathing becomes slow and easy. She’s exhausted, and the calm of tonight has sent her into sleep terribly quickly.

_Fuck,_ he thinks _, I love you_ , and sleep takes him just as fast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's getting very hard to get veronica and archie involved? their plots are so separate?
> 
> 4x19 is proof of why a good episode uses the ensemble cast gfdi
> 
> wasn't it fun though
> 
> and no chic! honestly, i thought it was a really bad idea of betty's to go and find her brother then, while alice was going through a lot anyway, and everything was a mess. i thought jughead not wanting his mother anymore was a good way of showing her how finding her lost brother might not be any use for any of them


	12. The Wrestler

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Toni Topaz strikes a new path. Archie does the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> but i'm not going to talk much about archie, because even if he were a decent person, he'd be fucking boring

It has been a week since the Southsiders moved to Riverdale High, and everything and nothing has changed. Betty and Jughead sit on the bleachers, watching as Archie and Reggie face off against Sweet Pea and Fangs. Archie, oddly enough, has been on his best behaviour, and the Serpents seem to have paid attention to Jughead’s plea not to deal at Riverdale High. Jughead’s not under any illusions that the two ‘lead’ Serpents trying out for the sports teams means anything other than competition, but…

Well. It’s a start, and so far it seems like no-one’s playing dirty. Not that Jughead would know; he avoids sport like the plague.

He and Betty both have laptops, using this time to compile and compare the information everyone’s collected about the closure of Southside High. It’s very boring, but he doesn’t mind doing it with Betty for company.

He’s still working on it when Cheryl gives a triumphant talk about her ‘ancestor’ Colonel Blossom (really? Is that warmonger Betty’s relative too? Christ, as if things weren’t messy enough), and the teacher reprimands him for not paying attention.

Cheryl mentions petitioning the mayor to rename Pickens Day Blossom Day, and Jughead audibly scoffs. Cheryl fixes him with a glare.

Okay, so maybe they still don’t have a rapport.

The bell rings.

“Mr Jones,” says the teacher sternly. “I’d like to remind you that your oral history report is due next lesson.”

“I live with Betty Cooper,” says Jughead dryly. “You think she’d let me get away with not doing my homework? I’ve had it ready since last week.”

It’s true. It’s on his laptop, and he’s rehearsed his presentation in front of Betty, and a more critical Alice. He did not risk asking Hal about his thoughts on HP Lovecraft and racism in horror literature.

Mrs Haggly looks sceptical, but she lets him leave without comment.

He rehearses it again at home, until he knows every single word off by heart.

“There’s a lot of cars at Archie’s,” says Betty absent-mindedly. 

Jughead smirks.

“Am I losing your attention, Cooper?” he says, turning her to look at him with a gentle grip on her chin. Betty’s eyes go wide, her breathing hitches, and he thinks, _oh, she liked that_.

 _I’ll remember this_.

“No, no,” she says. “But Jug, you’ve done it perfectly, three times through now. You’ve made it as much fun as a rant about an Edwardian racist can be. I’m just… wondering why the Lodges and the Mayor are all at the Andrews’.”

“Oh!” gasps Jughead, and drops on to the sofa, switching the light off. “Betty, let’s do a stakeout!”

Betty giggles.

“It is suspicious,” she insists.

“It is,” says Jughead. “The richest man in town, the main building company and the Mayor? I don’t know what they’re planning, Betty, but that’s… well. I think we need to ask Archie a few questions tomorrow. Come on, we'll do a proper stakeout in the dark. You can be the Scully to my Mulder, and we'll eat junk food and flirt all night.”

He's not exaggerating. They stay there until it's late, teasing one another.

After the Mayor and the Lodges leave, Betty and Jughead skitter upstairs, still giggling, and Jughead thinks he might investigate that little hint he saw from Betty earlier, the excitement on her face when he told her what to do.

After all, they both like investigating.

The next morning, the dynamic of the breakfast table is very strange.

Jughead entered her room last night with a nervous look on his face.

“Betty,” he said, sitting beside her gingerly. “You didn’t mind, earlier, did you? When I- When grabbed your chin.”

“No,” she said, and the memory filled her with that strange anticipation she’d felt when he did that. “No, Jughead. Should I… I mean, should I have?”

“I, uh,” said Jughead. “I, um, I got the sense that you liked that? And I liked that you liked that. Fuck, I’m very bad at saying all this, but, um, I think this is something I’d like to talk about?”

Betty was speechless. It’s very strange that _Jughead,_ who she’d never thought of as a sexual being at all before the autumn, had apparently been able to read her like a book.

Yes, she’d liked it. She likes it when he praises her; she’d liked it more than a little when he’d been so… dominant when he went down on her the first time.

It just feels like it should have been embarrassing for her to admit. It wasn’t, though, with Jughead, his face open and soft, always waiting for her, always listening.

“Yes,” she whispered, slipping into his lap. “I like it when you take charge of me. I like it when you take me out of my own head, just make me feel. I like it when you tell me how good I am. It makes me feel- Jughead,” she paused, “yeah, I really liked that. I think this is definitely something we could talk about.”

Jughead smirked against her lips.

Much later, she came with his hand pinning her wrists against the pillows, his other hand between her thighs, and his whisper of how good she was for him in her ear. The feeling of his hand in her hair as she sucked him off still lingers on her scalp the following morning, and she feels like if she looks at him, something will give them both away.

Hal is already hostile, the moment he sees her walk down the stairs with Jughead. It does not make for a comfortable breakfast, with Hal and Alice sniping at one another, and Betty and Jughead trying desperately hard not to indicate that they’d spent the night, uh, experimenting, with quite a lot of success, judging by how hard they’d both come.

“Are you going to come to the Register today, Alice?” asks Hal dryly. “Or will you be staying to work from home again? Since that’s been your habit, writing these soft pieces about context for crime on the Southside from here, instead of in the office? Is this just, I don’t know, you finally showing your true colours?”

“I am,” snaps Alice. “And don’t insult my work, Hal, the Southside deserves a free press, just like the northside. I’m not willing to just churn out puff pieces toeing the Mayor’s line – unlike SOME of us.”

Betty and Jughead depart rapidly after that.

Veronica invites them all to Pickens Day, revealing quite cheerfully that the ‘celebration’ had been discussed at the Andrews’ house last night, as if that little conspiracy hadn’t smacked of corruption (Jughead is almost sure that Fred wouldn’t be going along with it if he realised, but the Andrews men both have a streak of naïve trust a mile wide; Jughead’s seen it at its very worst in Archie).

“Will you be coming, Toni?” asks Veronica, smiling pleasantly at the girl. Jughead remembers her making an effort with Toni the week before, so perhaps this will go well.

“I won’t,” snaps Toni. _So much for that, then_. “Since the Serpents haven’t been invited.”

“They haven’t?” says Jughead.

“They have,” asserts Veronica, her smile turning brittle. “I think they pretty specifically were.”

“We were hired as security,” says Sweet Pea. “That’s not the same thing.”

“I don’t care what FP says,” snaps Toni. “I’m not going.”

Jughead shrinks at the sound of his father’s name.

“It’s money,” says Fangs. “What does it matter?”

“It’s an insult,” retorts Toni. “We don’t count as full citizens in our own town. We only get to be there on sufferance, when we can be bought and paid for. It’s not right, Fangs.”

“I don’t care if it’s right.” Fangs sighs. “I just need money, man. You know I do.”

“Well, then,” says Veronica, spreading her arms expansively. “You’re definitely guests, but you get paid! It works out well for everyone!”

Toni scoffs, and marches out. Cheryl, Jughead notes, watches Toni go with interest.

Veronica finishes her speech and races out after Archie, who has detached himself from nearly everyone recently, concentrating very hard on basketball. Jughead is still sad at the distance he feels between himself and Archie, wonders if they can regain it. He thought they’d managed before, after their fight in the summer, but recently he’s found himself struggling to find time and reasons to hang out with his best friend, who seems so absorbed in Veronica and whatever keeps him up all night in the garage (writing songs, Jughead guesses. He’s very fond of Archie, but, God, they suck).

Kevin dashes into the Blue and Gold.

“Betty!” he gasps. “Betty, I just beat Archie!”

“You… what?” asks Betty, wondering what on earth Kevin could mean. 

“So I was trying out for the wrestling team,” says Kevin, a broad grin across his face, “and so was Archie.”

“Wasn’t he… I mean, I thought he was already doing basketball and football,” says Betty. “He’s trying to wrestle?”

“Yeah,” says Kevin. “And Betty, he sucks! I mean, there I was, there’s all the golden gods of the sports teams, Chuck Clayton, Reggie, all of these guys who are the big men of the school, and then, like, me? Just me? The camp theatre kid, the nerd? And then… I just beat him! I don’t know if I can explain to you how good that makes me feel!”

 _Chuck,_ thinks Betty guiltily. She’s heard he’s honestly turned over a new leaf, that he’s been getting into art. He and Josie are often together at Pop’s, and they look sweet. Guilt churns in Betty’s gut, and she remembers everything that went down with Chuck. She wants to believe that he’s turned over a new leaf, even if it will make her feel even worse about that… blip.

Jughead skitters in, looking surprised to see Kevin. Of course, the terminally passive Jughead once punched Chuck in the face to defend her honour, and Betty can see why Kevin felt so surprised to beat one of the big sporty kids at their own game.

“Hey, Kev,” says Jughead.

“Jughead!” says Kevin enthusiastically. “You hear? I know he’s your friend, but I just beat Archie at the wrestling tryouts!”

“No, congratulations,” says Jughead dryly, and then blinks. “Wait, wrestling? Isn’t he already-”

“Yup,” says Betty.

“Huh,” says Jughead, eyebrows expressive. “What prompted this latest fad?”

“Oh, I think he was trying to impress Mr Lodge,” says Kevin.

“Mr Lodge was there?” Betty says, exchanging a look with Jughead. Is he trying to get his claws into Riverdale High, the way they think he did with Southside?

“Yeah, he’s sponsoring the team, and helping coach, I guess,” says Kevin. “Anyway, I’m sure you two have some important sleuthing to be getting on with. I’m going to go and accidentally let Cheryl know what happened, so she can spread it throughout the school!”

He dashes off, gleeful.

“Should I feel bad for Archie?” asks Jughead, dumping his bag alongside hers. “He’s trying to show off for his girlfriend’s dad, and he got his ass kicked.”

“I’m not laughing.”

“Liar.” Jughead twines his hand around her neck, reminding her pleasantly of the night before. “What are we up to?”

“Honestly?” Betty sighs. “Nothing much. No-one’s been able to find anything out about the closure at Southside. All the people involved are being silent, almost like-”

“Like someone’s paid them off.” Jughead rubs his head. “So, the Lodges? The Mayor?”

“The Lodges,” says Betty firmly. “And… I’m getting worried about Veronica. She’s been hanging out with me and Kevin way less, just… absorbing herself with her family. Which, like, I get, fine, she’s happy to be reconciled with her dad now he’s out-”

Jughead winces, and Betty rubs his arm sympathetically.

“-but she’s really going all in,” she continues, “and I don’t know how far she’s going to go. I think she wanted to try and reel them in, but…”

Jughead sighs.

“At least no-one’s trying to murder us right now.”

Toni marches in.

“Hopefully,” Jughead amends.

“You published our story last time,” says Toni. “You willing to do it again?”

“Yeah,” says Betty, as Jughead says “Depends what it is.”

“My oral history project,” says Toni. “I want to do it on the Southside, and I want you to write an article, and if you can get that newspaper your parents own to do the same, Betty, I want it published there.”

“That, uh, might take some doing,” says Betty cautiously. “What’s your project about?”

“General Pickens,” says Toni furiously. “Colonel Blossom. All of them. We know the truth, okay? When you Northsiders want to celebrate him, you’re celebrating the guy who built the Southside, who enforced segregation, who made sure that there was an underclass in Riverdale based on class and race. You’ve named your park after a Civil War general with blood on his hands, and you want us to celebrate? It’s disgusting.”

She slams her report down on the desk. It’s well-researched, with testimonies from older Southsiders, as well as serious history books. It’s horrifying.

“Yes,” says Betty, before she can stop herself. She’s seen the name Blossom on the sheet, the same Colonel that she now knows she’s related to. “Yes, I’ll publish it. I’d be proud to, Toni.”

“Don’t be so sappy,” says Toni, but it’s without heat. “You know this might make things… worse, right?”

“It’s the truth,” says Betty angrily. “People on the Northside should hear it.”

“Toni,” says Jughead. Betty turns to look at him; he’s not nearly as determined as her. Instead, he looks conflicted. “Did my dad put you up to this?”

“Your dad?” Toni looks confused. “Jones, why would I mention any of this to your dad? What would he have to do with it? This isn’t a Serpents thing. Not everything is about the Serpents.”

“No,” says Jughead, with a sigh of relief. “It’s nothing. No reason.”

Betty accepts the copy of the report, promises to publish it in the next edition of the Blue and Gold, and plead the case with her mom.

“Did you know about this, Jug?” she asks.

“Well,” he says slowly. “Yeah, it’s not exactly a secret, is it?”

It’s completely new to her. General Pickens is always mentioned as the hazy founder of Riverdale, this half-mythical figure who she never much paid attention to. There was no reason to.

“Why did you ask that, then, about your dad?” she asks. 

“Oh,” says Jughead. “Rampant paranoia. Just wondering why Toni asked us to publish this now, right when it’s never been more tense between the Northside and the Southside. I was scared it was my dad, or Penny, or some other even worse person that they’re doing the dirty work for. Instead, it’s just… a young woman who wants a fair chance. Shows me what I know, right?”

“It’s not paranoia if they’re really out to get you,” says Betty, grinning, “but in this case, I’m willing to take the risk.”

Pickens Day is looking increasingly likely to be a mess. First Josie and Veronica are singing, then Josie decides against it. After that, Veronica recruits Archie (Jughead hopes it won’t be as weird as their attempt at Homecoming), which seems to go well, until Archie comes in fuming and announces that he’s concentrating on wrestling.

“He said it didn’t make me less of a man to be a better performer than a fighter, Jug,” the redhead says, shoving books into his locker haphazardly.

“Well, yeah,” says Jughead non-committally. “That’s kinda right.”

He thinks of Kevin, a keener and more dedicated performer than Archie, defeating Archie with ease, and decides not to say anything about it.

“Yeah, Jug, but what if he’s not right? Or he’s just being kind? Like, one day, I’ll need to protect Veronica from… something, or whatever, and I’m just not strong enough, because I’ve been trying to be a singer?”

“Uh,” says Jughead. “I mean, like, physically protect her? That’s a kind of weird way to look at school wrestling or guitar, Arch, isn’t it? Is this one of those manly-man, measuring-contest things? Because I don’t think anything about that is going to make you more or less of a man, Archie, since the whole thing’s kind of imaginary anyway.”

Archie looks at him with total consternation, and Jughead can’t face a talk with Archie about gender right now.

Veronica and Josie blow up at each other in the music room.

A bigger explosion occurs when Betty publishes Toni’s article.

“Is dad going to be pissed off?” asks Betty nervously, as she sits in the office. Alice is checking through the proofs of Toni’s article, ready to go out to the Register’s much wider readership in the next few days.

“It’s a bit late to ask me that, honey,” says Alice distractedly. “But, yes, I think he will.”

“Is he…” Betty doesn’t know how to phrase her question. “Are you arguing about Jughead? Dad seems to really hate him these days, and I know Jug’s scared he’s making everything worse for us.”

“Betty.” Alice saves her work, and faces her daughter. “You know I was born on the Southside, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” says Betty. She won’t ever let her mother know how she knows.

“Well,” says Alice. “I spent a very long time running away from it, and when I thought I’d escaped, I reviled it. I wrote article after article condemning the people, the community there, and it wasn’t fair. Not even the Serpents deserved some of the things I said.”

“So what changed?”

“When I offered to foster Jughead,” says Alice, “I think I wanted to give him the same chance I had. I saw myself in him, as well as… others. But it made me remember what it was like to come from there. Even visiting the Whyte Wyrm that horrible night, finding out how Peabody’s manipulating the Serpents, it reminded me of what it felt like to be a second-class citizen in your own town. Everyone there’s worse off, and the Northside sometimes works hard to keep it that way. So yes, Betty, I’ve been arguing with your dad about the morality of the Southside a lot, and it’s worrying me that he’s taking it out on Jughead, who is, quite frankly, a teenager who doesn’t deserve to be the scapegoat for your dad’s problem with the Southside. It isn’t Jughead’s fault, and it certainly isn’t yours.”

The next day, Cheryl marches in to the Blue and Gold’s office.

“Is it true?” she asks, pointing to Toni’s article. “My mom said… it’s true? All of it? Our illustrious ancestor did all of that?”

“Well,” says Jughead nervously, “Yeah, Cheryl.”

Cheryl scowls, and starts to shake with rage.

“Our family is filth, Betty,” she spits. “We’re a blight on this place. We always have been.”

“No,” says Betty, standing to comfort her cousin. “I mean, yes, our family has done horrible, horrible things, but… You aren’t that. You know you aren’t. Someone once told me that we aren’t our families, and I think it’s true. Maybe if we try to face up to this truth, we can… I don’t know. We can start to make Riverdale better for everyone.”

“Should I apologise to you, then, Jughead?” asks Cheryl, turning to him suddenly. “Your father helped to murder my brother; but my family helped to make sure that people on the Southside lost their options in life, and grew rich from exploiting them.”

Jughead doesn’t answer, his mouth gaping.

“Talk to Toni Topaz,” suggests Betty, gently. “It was her article. It was her story to tell.”

Cheryl narrows her eyes.

“What if she spits in my face?” she asks. “I can’t guarantee that it won’t end in both of our deaths.”

“Risk it,” suggests Jughead finally. “It might be worth it.”

He hopes he’s right. He’s come to almost like some of the younger Serpents, nearly as much as he’s come to respect Cheryl. He thinks Betty’s right; this is something that Toni has started, and it’s only fair that she and Cheryl are the ones to confront one another.

Archie is furious, because he and Hiram are still locked in an epic battle over Veronica, apparently sublimated through wrestling. Jughead regrets trying to talk to Archie again, and finds an excuse to go and talk to Kevin instead. 

The morning of Pickens Day, Jughead and Betty both awaken to texts from Toni Topaz.

 _I’m going to Pickens Day,_ she says _. Will you be there_?

Jughead groans.

Betty comes into his room a moment later. Hal had been in a particularly nasty mood last night, and had prowled the landing until after they had both fallen asleep, hoping for his footsteps to cease.

“Think of all the junk food, Jug,” she says. “All those maple ices, and funnel cakes, and deep-fried whatevers.”

“Ugh,” says Jughead, one arm flung over his eyes. “Betty, why do you have to know me so well? Keep talking dirty to me, baby.”

“Ahem,” says Alice, entering the room. Jughead goes bright pink, and rolls over. “I take it you’re both accompanying me to Pickens Day, then?”

“Is Hal not coming?” asks Jughead, struggling to keep his voice even.

“He has a few things to do around the house,” says Alice carefully. “He might join us later.”

The Pussycats, now renamed Veronica and the Pussycats, in an astonishingly unsubtle power play, are performing as they arrive. Jughead tries to escape to get a Maple cone, but he pauses a moment later.

“Betty,” he says. “I think Toni’s making her move.”

Toni is marching through the park, placard held high. _End Pickens Day_ , it says. Behind her is a ragged troupe of others; Sweet Pea and Fangs and a few other Serpents, as well as some of the other Southside kids that aren’t part of the gang. They are all holding signs protesting against the historic treatment of the Southside, the continued policies that keep the area poor.

Jughead doesn’t realise he’s moved to join them until Betty tugs at his hand. He turns back to her, afraid. Is this where he loses her? She’s the epitome of a middle-class Northsider, for all her empathy and searches for justice. He might not be a Serpent, but he was born on the Southside, knows what it’s like, and he knows that what Toni’s doing is right.

“Are you sure?” says Betty. He can’t read her face.

“We have to,” he says. “Something has to change.”

She nods, straightens her back, and holds his hand tighter. They walk together to join the demonstration, defying the glares of the Lodges and the Mayor and her father, now present. 

A bright figure peels off from the Northside crowd. It’s Cheryl, unmistakeable with her glowing hair and her scarlet coat. She joins the protest, meets Betty and Jughead’s eyes, gives them a frightened grin. Her mother is still in the crowd, vibrating with rage.

Cheryl goes to stand beside Toni, a clear beacon of Northside privilege allied with the anger of the Southside.

Hiram tries to defuse the situation, mouths platitudes about the upcoming SoDale project. It comforts a few Northsiders, but Jughead wonders what it is that they’ve done here. He’s largely ignored Hiram personally, preferring to view him detachedly as the rich man who they’re investigating. He finds that Hiram’s status as Veronica’s dad, Archie’s current rival (with whom he has a very weird tension) fills him with unease. 

Hiram steps off the stage, lets them return to protesting. His eyes flicker from Toni, to Cheryl, until they settle on Betty and Jughead.

Jughead shivers, and pulls Betty closer into his arms.

“Have we just made another enemy?” he whispers, lips against her ear.

“Maybe, but you were right, Jug,” says Betty. She hasn’t missed Hiram’s gaze either. “Something had to change.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes i would have liked it if there were more of the toni we saw in this episode? and i thought it was important for it to be a southsider who led the protest, not jughead who's an honorary northsider, and had absolutely no reason to be so attached to southside high since he went there for like two months and hated it for most of the time
> 
> AND i am not touching the uktena land-theft plot with a bargepole, because i do not think that was an appropriate story to bring in and then drop like a hot coal. one of many real-life issues that riverdale should not try and touch on, because they cannot write about real problems. stick to absurd camp nonsense.


	13. The Wicked and the Divine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Veronica's confirmation coincides with a new threat to the Southside, and Betty and Jughead investigate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> then they started investigating each other

“Hey, Arch,” says Jughead, watching his (former?) friend dash into Pop’s with his arms full. “You want to get a burger? I haven’t seen you round much lately.”

“Sorry, bro,” says Archie. “Gotta run, got to get this dry-cleaning back to Mr Lodge! Man, this internship is really kicking my ass.”

“Internship?” says Jughead. “You’re doing an internship?”

“Yeah,” says Archie enthusiastically. “With Mr Lodge! Exciting, right?”

“Exciting,” says Jughead, his heart sinking. Betty has shared her fears with him about Veronica’s increasing links to her parents, and he had held out some hope that Archie would be spared. It seems they had both hoped in vain.

He goes back to Betty, who flashes big innocent eyes at him as she sucks her milkshake through a straw.

She knows exactly what she’s doing, with her pretty mouth and that ingenuously vanilla milkshake. He tuts, and she casts him a defiant look.

“Archie is doing an internship with the Lodges,” he says, aiming to distract them both before things get too heated. “He’s running around with Hiram Lodge’s dry cleaning.”

“Ugh,” says Betty disgustedly, dropping her straw. “Well, let’s hope it doesn’t get any worse than that.”

Sheriff Keller enters the diner, and his eye fixes on Betty and Jughead.

“Betty,” he says, “Jughead. Got a few questions, if you don’t mind.”

“What can we help you with, Sheriff?” says Betty, smiling sweetly. Jughead hates to think what she’d look like if she was actually concealing something.

"You were both there at that little, uh, business on Pickens Day,” says Sheriff Keller.

“The protest?” Jughead smirks at Keller’s euphemism. “Yeah, we were there.”

“Well,” Sheriff Keller rubs his forehead. “It seems like after that little stunt, someone decided to take matters into their own hands. They’ve, uh, decapitated the statue. It seems they’ve taken the head as a statement of some sort.”

Jughead snorts.

“Is this not the plot of a Simpsons’ episode?” he says.

“We don’t know anything about that,” says Betty, much more inclined to be cooperative.

“Well, your father heads the Southside Serpents, and they led the protest,” says Keller.

“It wasn’t just Serpents, it was lots of people,” protests Betty.

“And I don’t speak to my father,” says Jughead thinly.

“Just wondering if you’d heard anything,” says the Sheriff, sensing he’s lost control of the situation. “I mean, it was your paper that set this all off.”

“Yeah, it was,” snaps Jughead. “Is this what you keep harassing the Serpents at school about? Because we’d love to write an article about how you’re spending more time on this than you did trying to find the Black Hood, who, surprise surprise, wasn’t from the Southside either!”

Betty grabs his knee. He might have a point, but they need to be diplomatic.

“You’re all invited to my confirmation!” says Veronica excitedly, clapping her hands together. “Usually, it’s just family, but I managed to secure you a pew, since you’re my chosen family. It’s a strict Catholic chic dress code; dresses, veils optional, suits for the boys.”

Betty’s parents are just religious enough to be hypocritical about it, and to send their pregnant daughter to a convent. She thinks Jughead’s probably been to church about once in his life, even less religious than her upbringing.

She thinks they can probably manage for a day. She’s conscious of the compliment of being part of Veronica’s chosen family, though the thought of a full day spent around the Lodges after everything that went down with the article and the protest isn’t that appealing.

“ _Jughead Jones and Betty Cooper to the principal’s office_ ,” says the loudspeaker, and everyone in the room turns to look at them.

Think of the devil.

“I’ve already informed Miss Topaz that she’s banned forthwith from writing articles for the Blue and Gold,” says Wetherbee sternly. “If another event occurs like this, I will have no option but to suspend you both from the Blue and Gold. We’ve had a number of complaints, but if I have your agreement that nothing so… libellous will emerge from the Blue and Gold again-”

“Libellous?” gasps Betty. “That was a serious article! We had research, sources! You can’t just expect us to-”

“It’s not appropriate for a school newspaper,” snaps Wetherbee. “In fact, several of your articles haven’t been, Miss Cooper. Please don’t make me reconsider my decision to reopen the newspaper this year!”

“We won’t,” says Jughead, scowling. “We’ll just make ourselves scarce then, sir.”

They both leave, fuming.

“This is censorship, Jug!” says Betty, pacing the office. “They’re shutting down a school newspaper for publishing a story about a dirty side of local history? That’s ridiculous!”

“It means we’re threatening them,” says Jughead. He’s angry too, but seems tempered with an odd triumph. “It means they’re worried about people hearing what Toni and the others had to say.”

“Oh, and Toni! Don’t forget, Jug, that we’re the ones who are being allowed to get away with it. We got a warning, but the Southsider gets banned from the newspaper? This is exactly what the story was about! This is exactly the kind of thing they always do!”

“Which is why we have to keep going,” he says. Betty slumps on to the desk, as he puts his hands on her shoulders. “We have them rattled. If we lose the Blue and Gold, we’ll find another way to get the information out. This is exactly the sign that we shouldn’t stop.”

“Oh, I’m not stopping,” says Betty. The newspaper is her baby, and she doesn’t want to lose it; but this is more important. “Let’s go find Toni and the others. I want to hear what they have to say about this.”

The Southsiders are, unsurprisingly, displeased, but they take it the same way that Jughead had. Sweet Pea crows over the idea of Hiram Lodge and the Mayor complaining about a high school newspaper, and Toni just smirks.

“Ahem?”

A very nervous Cheryl stands in the doorway. Betty’s not sure she’s even seen Cheryl so unconfident, without having had something terrible happen to her recently.

“Cheryl?” says Betty. “Is everything okay?”

“I heard about the Blue and Gold drama,” says Cheryl, and her posture straightens. “Honestly, cousin, I’d no idea you and your boyfriend would ever create such a stir with your little project.”

“Is that everything?” asks Toni. “Are you just here for the gossip, Northsider? Is that why you joined us at the protest? The most dramatic thing you could think to do to defy your Mommy?”

“Astoundingly, no,” replies Cheryl. “I came to see… If I could offer any help.”

“What could you offer?” asks Toni, astonished.

“Well,” says Cheryl. “That would be up to all of you, wouldn’t it?”

If the fallout from the Blue and Gold article had been bad, the Register’s article is… if not actually worse, then proportionate. Betty enters the house to another blazing row between Hal and Alice, about her sympathies towards the Southside, and immediately closes the door again.

Jughead looks at her guiltily.

“Stop that,” she says. “You know none of this is your fault. We’re going to leave them to it, and we’re going to go to Pop’s.”

They sit side by side in a booth at Pop’s, sharing fries and onion rings. Well, kind of sharing; Betty isn’t exactly the bottomless pit that her boyfriend is, but the thought that he wanted to buy her a snack, wanted to share his food with her now that he can afford it, is very sweet.

Fangs Fogarty appears at their table, nervous and angry.

“What’s up, Fangs?” asks Jughead. Betty still can’t believe that he’s called that; but then again, her boyfriend is called Jughead. She’s just more used to that.

“Keller’s going around the trailer park, putting up eviction notices,” says Fangs, sounding tired and sad. “It’s a mayoral thing. Apparently everyone owes back rent, so they’re… chucking us all out, I guess.”

“But everyone’s always owed back rent,” protests Jughead. “What changed?”

Betty’s never known what that must be like, living paycheck to paycheck. She doesn’t think her parents even have a mortgage on the house on Elm Street. It’s yet another side of Southside living that the Northsiders never consider.

“Keller says if someone comes across Pickens’ head, the mayor might be inclined to relax a little.” Fangs’ shoulders slump, and he rubs his eyes. “They all blame us, for writing that article and starting the protest. They say we’ve ruined the only thing we had going. Jones senior is talking about putting us all on probation from the Serpents, even if we win the fight not to get evicted.”

Jughead snorts. Betty rubs his arm.

“He and Tall Boy are trying to blame us for it,” Fangs continues. “They think we – me and Toni and Sweet Pea – did the statue.”

“Did you?”

“Cooper, please,” says Fangs. “Do we look like we have time to decapitate a statue? The moment Penny says we’ve made enough in the week, we’re all inside trying to do our fuckin’ homework. Why would any of us waste time doing that? Anyway, we just wanted to let you know. Seems like we made a mess after all. Thanks for trying, I guess.”

He leaves, looking defeated. Jughead fixes Betty with a look.

“This is our fault,” he says.

“No, it’s the Mayor’s fault,” retorts Betty. “The solution to inequality can’t be ‘let’s get rid of all the poor people and pretend there isn’t a problem. Let’s take the fight to her.”

“Is it worth fighting?”

“Of course it is,” says Betty. “We weren’t even protesting when Southside High got shut down. Toni didn’t fire the first shot; that was the Mayor, and Mr Lodge.”

“Mr Lodge,” says Jughead, resting his head in his hands. “Can you believe we have to spend a whole evening with him? On best behaviour? While we know what that lot are trying to do to the Southside?”

Jughead’s emotions towards Mayor McCoy are ambivalent, truly.

It’s a very strange thing. He always tries to bear in mind, when he sees her, that she and Josie struggle with things that he ultimately can’t comprehend. She and Josie are black women, trying to make it in either the law, or the arts, and he’s a white man. Riverdale is a very white town, both Northside and Southside, and he can’t understand what it’s like to be black at all, let alone a place like Riverdale, perpetually conforming and disintegrating. 

Still. Toni is always fighting against the town’s status quo, isn’t she? And she has none of the limited advantages of money, or fame, or any of the advantages that Josie and Sierra McCoy enjoy.

Jughead, oddly, likes Josie and Mrs McCoy. He’s always had the impression that Mrs McCoy, had the pressures of politics not forced her into a certain path, would be an ally.

It’s why he tries to get her sympathy, after he hears about the evictions. 

“I’ve always liked you, Jughead,” she says bitterly. His hope fades. “You’re a smart kid. But Governor Dooley is reading me the riot act, and this has all cost him a lot of money.”

“There’s someone pulling your strings, isn’t there?” says Jughead. He’s sad, disappointed, less angry and more bitter. “Is it Hiram Lodge?”

Sierra McCoy looks sour, and he doesn’t know if it’s in sympathy with him, or just with the world in general.

“Let it go, Jughead,” she says seriously. “Before you discover something you shouldn’t.”

“So we find the head,” says Betty.

They’re in his bedroom, back at the house, with the door wide open for Hal’s peace of mind. They make no pretence of not discussing the Pickens statue business, because while Betty can get behind pretending that she’s not sleeping with her boyfriend, she sees no value in pretending that they aren’t trying to maintain their defence of the Southsiders.

So, lying to her father is a moral grey area. She is reconciled to that.

“We treat it like a missing person’s case,” she continues. “We send out flyers, I don’t know, offer a reward. We find the head, we might save the trailer park.”

“You think it could be as simple as that?” asks Jughead, caressing her leg. She welcomes his touch, just teetering on the edge of sexual, the way it often is these days. She’s been on birth control for three weeks, with Veronica’s help, and she hasn’t yet found a way to broach the topic to him.

She thinks that should be simple too. She should just say, “I want to have sex with you and I want you inside me,” and it should be calm, comfortable, easy, the way everything has been with him, since they started being more physical. She knows by now that it would be fine, that he likes her being assertive, nearly as much as he seems to relish their more… well, things have been good. There’s just some little bit of her that can’t quite seem to take the plunge yet. Is it Hal’s hostility? Her own memories of Jughead’s discomfort with touch, prior to all of this, even after he’s told her how much he loves to touch her? Is it that nasty bit of Alice that resides in her, telling her that she’ll get pregnant, be ruined, suffer horrible consequences for having sex with a boy she loves?

“Yes,” she says, determined to defy all of that. If she feels comfortable – if he feels comfortable – than this is something they get to share. Fuck all of that, and fuck the people who wnt to destroy the Southside. “It really should be that simple.”

By the time they get home, Alice and Hal’s argument has finally reached its conclusion. Jughead can see bags in the hall, neatly packed, and for a moment, he thinks that they’re his; he thinks this is the end of his safety here, that he’s about to be thrown out to face his father and Penny. He will be sent to a cold trailer in Sunnyside trailer park, for as long as that lasts, to be torn apart by the town and his father’s terrible decisions.

But they’re Hal’s bags.

Hal tells Alice to call him, once her bizarre sympathy for the Southside has ended.

“I’m from the Southside, Harold,” says Alice bitterly. “It isn’t sympathy. It’s the truth.”

“Well,” says Hal, and tries to fix Betty with a look. Betty raises her chin defiantly.

Hal doesn’t even acknowledge Jughead’s presence. Jughead thinks that’s probably a good thing.

Neither Alice nor Betty try to argue against him.

“It’s strange,” says Betty, once Hal has taken those suitcases, and departed for a ShareBnB nearer the Register. “A few months ago, this would have broken my heart.”

“It doesn’t now?” says Jughead, carefully. Alice left shortly after Hal, saying she needed a drink. They are alone in the living room.

“No,” says Betty. She sounds sad, but resigned. “Jug, he left us before. They argued before any of this started, and then it’s only been worse. Polly’s gone. Dad and Mom can’t even pretend to be civil any more. I think,” she sighs, and rests her head on his shoulder. “I told you, months ago, that I was scared about my family falling apart, and you told me not to give up. Jug, this isn’t me giving up. I honestly just think this is the best for everyone, for Mom, and Dad, and for me. I just… Jug, I know it’s the best thing. I’m just very, very sad.”

She starts crying silently, and Jughead gathers her into his arms. They lie on the sofa for a long time, quiet and sad together.

Betty has a very pretty dress for the confirmation. It’s pink, naturally; there is an inherent fondness for pink that she can’t shake off, even now that she can choose not to wear it. The waist and collar are grosgrain, the skirt tiered lace, and she feels pretty wearing it.

She likes the fact that Jughead is staring at the dress, sure; but it means just as much to her that she feels pretty in her dress. Being found attractive is wonderful, but she feels…

Yeah. She feels really pretty. There’s a distinction between feeling sexy, maybe, and being pretty, but it still makes her feel good about herself.

The ceremony is as long and boring as she’d feared. She sits beside Jughead, resisting the temptation to rest her tired head on his shoulder. She’s less sad about the end of her parents now, and she knows it’s better for all of them, rather than this endless, poisoned bickering that she remembers throughout her life.

It doesn’t escape her that they’re in a Catholic church, dedicating Veronica to a religion that frowns on divorce, on separation, in many of its forms. She wonders if her parents felt like her and Jughead, once, wrapped up in each other against the storm around them. It scares her, thinking that they may have felt like this, and still ended up the bitter pair that they are now.

She sees Archie and Veronica dancing together, then Veronica and Hiram. Whatever has happened with her family, she hopes it isn’t as insane as whatever is going on with the Lodges and the Andrews.

She thinks about asking Jughead to dance with her. They didn’t quite manage a slow dance at Homecoming, before murder and betrayal got in their way. She doesn’t know if he’d like it here, but he’s been amenable to kissing her and holding her in front of some of their friends; a select few, but it means a lot to her. He still avoids touching other people like the plague.

Her phone buzzes.

Of course.

“It’s about the statue,” she says, phone clasped to her ear. She and Jughead steal away; she hopes that Veronica won’t be too disappointed by their absence, as the heiress ties herself and Archie tighter to her father.

“First time I ever found a bronze head stashed in a refrigerator,” says Junkyard Steve, and Jughead wonders how strange it must be to known by your profession like that. He shows them the head, and it’s unquestionably Pickens, as if they had ever doubted it. The bronze is dull, but it’s intact.

“Tallest man I ever saw,” Junkyard Steve says mildly, and it triggers something in Jughead’s memories. For a moment, he thinks Steve could mean Sweet Pea; but he remembers the huge man who’d tried to give him the jacket, that night after Betty’s speech at the Town Hall. Alice called him Gerald, but the others all called him Tall Boy.

The same man tried to send him to Penny Peabody, who now controls FP, and through him, the Serpents. In all likelihood, she would have done the same with Jughead, without the Coopers’ intervention.

Tall Boy has been working against Jughead since the first day FP went to prison. Now, he’s working against all of the people of Sunnyside trailer park, for reasons Jughead is only just beginning to imagine.

He glances at Betty, and sees that her brilliant mind has made the same connections.

Her phone is already in her hand, Toni Topaz’ number on the screen.

They all walk into the Whyte Wyrm together. Betty’s even called Cheryl, once she had Toni’s permission. It’s a strange group of them, the same people who started the protest: Betty, Jughead, Cheryl, Toni, Sweet Pea and Fangs. There are the other young Serpents who are willing to stand with them, and a few other terrified kids from Southside, who have never set foot in the Whyte Wyrm before. 

Jughead’s holding the Pickens statue’s head. Cheryl is staying close to Betty, and he can’t imagine what’s going through her mind. Her brother died in this bar, and he heard Toni telling her softly that she didn’t have to go in, didn’t have to face FP, or the building where her brother died.

“He can’t have this power over me,” he heard Cheryl say. “Neither FP Jones, nor my father get to define where I can and can’t go. Jason wouldn’t have died, if it weren’t for the war my family started.”

Her spine is straight. She holds Betty’s hand. Jughead knows that Cheryl needs his girlfriend more than he does right now, and he doesn’t resent it.

He sets the head down on the table with a metallic thunk. They face FP, Penny and Tall Boy. Penny and Tall Boy are scowling; FP’s face is unreadable.

“We heard you were at the dump last week,” snarls Sweet Pea, slapping his palm on to the bronze head. “Want to tell us why, Tall Boy?”

“I got no reason to talk to you,” says Tall Boy. “What are these Northside bitches doing here?”

“These bitches,” says Toni, squaring up to him, “are trying to make sure we don’t lose our homes, you useless bastard.”

Tall Boy spits.

“What are they talking about, Tall Boy?” asks FP. His voice is cautious, and Jughead spots Penny casting him a look.

“They’re lying,” says Tall Boy. “Your pussy son and his Northsider whore set this up. Trying to make the Serpents go soft. Look at them, working with the Blossom slut and Southsiders who wouldn’t even join the Serpents. These shits would shed their skin for this? Fuck them.”

There is an audible hiss from a lot of the Serpents. Jughead’s hand trembles, and he knows he can’t punch Tall Boy, however satisfying it might be in his fantasies. He was useless enough defending Betty against Chuck, let alone feeding into the violent energy that pervades this place.

“Junkyard Steve saw you dump the head,” says Betty. Her voice is calm; she sounds like Alice. “Tell these people why you did that. Tell them why you want the Southside to lose their homes.”

“What do you care about the Southside?” asks Penny. She’s honed in on Betty and the other girls as a threat, not dismissing them the way Tall Boy had.

“It’s our home,” says Toni.

“So I wanted you to defend it,” says Tall Boy, trying to regain the upper hand. “Yeah, I took that fucking head. Hiram Lodge, he paid me. You think things are gonna get changed, with your shitty placards, and your articles with that traitor Smith bitch?”

Jughead sees his father snarl, and wonders what that means.

“It’s better than losing our homes,” says Fangs. “It was worth trying!”

“You need toughening!” roars Tall Boy. “You’re all getting soft. Me and Penny want chaos! We want blood, run the gauntlet like the old days!”

He’s lost his temper, doesn’t realise what he’s said. Penny goes red with fury, but the damage is done. FP calls a vote, and while some of the older Serpents seem to agree with Tall Boy, the vast majority agree that Tall Boy and Penny should be cast out.

Exiled.

Betty waits patiently with Cheryl, as the Serpents ceremonially strip Penny and Tall Boy of their jackets, and escort them out of the world. FP takes Jughead aside, seems to say something to him, but Jughead is shaking his head. He looks decided, defiant in a way that Betty’s never seen him when he faces his father.

The place is becoming increasingly rowdy, and Toni sits in pride of place on a table beside the Pickens head. After all, it was her article that started this.

Cheryl is staring at Toni.

“Do you think we can do this?” she asks. 

“Do what, Cheryl?” asks Betty.

“Work with the Southside,” says Cheryl tiredly. “I sometimes forget that they’re Serpents, you know, and then I remember Jughead’s father and Kevin’s Joaquin hiding my brother’s body. And yet… they’re just people. If I were in their position, how do I know I wouldn’t want to be part of this? We never asked to be Blossoms.”

“We didn’t,” says Betty, thinking of their forefathers’ eternal feud, and her own father’s anger at the Southside. “I don’t know if we can do it, Cheryl, but we should try. Shouldn’t we?”

“Ugh,” says Cheryl. “You’re disgustingly hopeful.”

They leave shortly after that, in Cheryl’s red Impala. Cheryl seems sanguine, after the night they’ve had, and she wishes both of them a surprisingly sincere good night.

Alice isn’t in, having another night out to celebrate or commiserate Hal’s departure.

Betty and Jughead sit alongside one another on her bed. There is a palpable energy on the air.

“Good old Hiram Lodge,” says Jughead resentfully. “I wonder what he’s planning for the Southside.”

“Maybe we can ask Veronica, on Monday,” says Betty, but she isn’t hopeful. She doesn’t want to be talking about the Lodges now, not while she thrums with energy from their rare triumph.

“Yeah,” says Jughead, sounding equally uncertain. “Maybe we should just investigate quietly, until we know more. We haven’t saved the trailer park yet, but we got rid of Tall Boy, and maybe even Penny.”

“But we will,” says Jughead. “All of us. I didn’t think we could have today, even, but… is it silly to be hopeful?”

“No,” says Betty, and she looks at him. “No, Jug, it isn’t.”

She swings her leg over his, into his lap, and he gazes up at her with such love that she almost can’t bear it.

She kisses him, long and slow and soft. He deepens the kiss, holds her closer, and his hand slips up her back to the zip of her dress. 

“I want you,” she says, feeling brave in the face of his adoration. “I want all of you, tonight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and no-one was murdered????????


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a quieter, calmer fall-out from the night before

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why am I so into them literally sleeping together

“I love you,” whispers Betty. Jughead is still asleep, and can’t possibly hear her, but she likes saying it, likes the comfort of the words in her mouth, likes knowing that if he did hear her, he’d respond in kind.

She doesn’t feel different, exactly. She’d come to the conclusion, some time ago, that while the first time she had sex would be important, she’d try not to let it define her. Alice may have implied that she should defend her so-called virginity fiercely, before she began to cope a little better with her daughters’ lives; but Betty’s read enough to know that virginity is a social construct.

Did she lose her virginity weeks ago, the first time she and Jughead made each other come? She sort of thinks so. She felt like it, felt like that was the most important step they could have taken together. They’ve learnt so much more since then, about each other’s likes and tastes and how their bodies seem to work together; but that night, after they defied the Black Hood to be in love, after they caught the Sugar Man, stays in Betty’s mind as the first time she’d had sex.

And yet.

She keeps running through parts of last night, over and over in her head. 

They really are fascinated with each other’s bodies. Even Jughead, who’d told her he’d previously been underwhelmed by most people’s bodies to the point of avoidance, couldn’t seem to stop staring at her and touching her wherever he could. When she’d been in his lap, her dress off, she’d had to draw him up from her breasts to hold his gaze and kiss him again.

It didn’t feel weird or creepy. She loves the way that he loves her body.

They had the luxury of a whole night, no Hal prowling or Alice to worry about. Their previous indulgences have been careful, cautious, often half-clothed to avoid risk of discovery.

That wasn’t the case last night.

Betty thinks about what her perception of sex was, before she actually started _having_ it. She had vague daydreams of losing that ridiculous virginity on silk sheets, to a faceless handsome man that she sometimes fantasised was Archie, sometimes whichever actor or idol had taken her fancy at the time.

That fantasy seems absurd to her now.

Sex was hot, and messy, and limbs got tangled, Jughead pulled her hair (okay, so that had accidentally turned out to be fucking great, that’s happening again if she has her way), and the feeling of him inside her wasn’t totally amazing at first.

It, uh, got better.

The reality had been so much better than what she’d imagined. It doesn’t matter if it was his hand, or his mouth on her, or all the new things they’d done last night.

And yeah, actually, enjoying sex might not be as novel a concept to her as it was to Jughead, but she blushes slightly when his cock brushes against her, hard and soft and she remembers how it felt inside her. She’s fascinated with the way his body works, too. There’s a hint of internalised misogyny there, she thinks, since she feels embarrassed by how much she likes sex, and in particular, likes the feeling of him in charge.

Jughead stretches, and wraps his arms tighter around her.

“Hey,” he says, “I love you.”

His hips press into her, and his hand strokes very gently over her throat.

Alice gets in a few hours later. She’s still wearing her clothes from last night, and her make-up is smeared on her face.

“Hey, Betty,” she says, lying on the couch with an arm over her eyes. “Would you mind closing the curtains?”

Betty complies, and dashes to the kitchen for painkillers and water, the same as Alice brought her on the night of Jughead’s awful birthday party. She’s worried about Alice, although drinking is hardly new to her mother. It’s just that it’s usually confined to glasses of wine in the house.

“I’m sorry, baby,” says Alice. Her words are still slightly slurred. “You shouldn’t have to do this for me. I should be better for you.”

Poor Alice, Betty thinks. All those years spent hiding the truth, denying reality; and it fell apart in just a few months. Betty likes to hope that their lives will eventually be better for it, but for now, the fallout is terribly painful.

She’s left Jughead asleep in her room again. They need to be at school in an hour or two, and her mother’s condition makes her brusque with him where she doesn’t mean to be.

“Is everything okay?” asks Jughead, as they walk to school through the snow. “Should… can we talk about last night?”

Betty looks at him in confusion.

“Why?” she says, not sure what they need to discuss. “What about it?”

“Nothing, I just… thought we had this really nice night, but then this morning, you were so busy, and… I kinda got nervous. Like, I don’t know, it wasn’t enjoyable?”

“Oh my God!” says Betty. “No! No, not at all!”

Of course, Jughead hadn’t seen Alice in the morning, had just woken up to Betty being a whirlwind. Betty was so occupied with worrying about her mother that she hadn’t realised how it could have looked to Jughead, to wake from the night before to Betty accidentally ignoring him.She caresses her face, and he leans into her touch, relief in his eyes.

“Last night was…” She searches for the right word. “Amazing. There was just… a lot of drama, with my mom this morning.”

“I’m sorry, Betty,” says Jughead, and he takes her umbrella, as if it could lift the mental weight on her shoulders. “This must be really hard on you guys.”

Betty leans her head on his shoulder, and nods.

They bump into Archie and Veronica, who are walking in almost exactly the same pose. Betty thinks back on how a few weeks ago, they’d have been delighted to meet up like this; but their respective family dramas have driven a wedge between the four of them, and she wishes that it could just be her and Jughead again, wrapped up in that bubble of sex and togetherness from the night before.

Jughead can’t stop bickering with Veronica, to his own irritation.

General Pickens’ head was delivered to Mayor McCoy’s office this morning by both Cheryl and Toni, as a symbol of their newfound Northside-Southside allegiance. Sweet Pea, it seems, had been keen on dropping it off at the Lodges’ as a show of defiance, but cooler heads had prevailed.

Betty is watching them, as Sweet Pea pulls Jughead aside to deliver yet another message from his dad. Jughead can’t bring himself to tell her about it yet.

But Veronica is insistent that she can get the Southside to understand the merit of her father’s mysterious plan.

“Honestly, Jughead, if your father and my father could just sit down, and-”

“My father is not the King of the Southside,” snaps Jughead. “Your father can’t negotiate with only one person. He should go down to Sunnyside, to those overpriced apartment blocks with shitty landlords that people still can’t afford, to their fucking closed schools and closed youth centres and closed bus routes and sit down there, Veronica, with the people he’s displacing! Not with the head of a biker gang who’s already helped close part of the town, on your father’s behalf!”

“And he will,” says Veronica placatingly. “And Jughead, no-one’s being displaced.”

“The eviction notices aren’t down yet,” says Cheryl dryly. Jughead flashes her a brief grin, which she almost returns.

“Guys!” Kevin enters the room, all excitement. “Did you hear they found a dead body?!”

Jughead sees Archie stiffen, no doubt remembering the days of terror during the Black Hood’s reign. Can the Black Hood have risen from the grave?

He doesn’t voice his concerns, remembering how that killer targeted his girlfriend, and triggered the worst in Archie.

“Apparently,” continues Kevin, and how unprofessional is Sheriff Keller that he lets his son know these kinds of details? Kevin’s seen some horrible things, couldn’t just one of their parents try to keep their children away? “It was a gruesome gangland-style killing, at the motel.”

“Didn’t Archie, V, Kevin and Joaquin find Mustang at the motel?” whispers Betty. 

Veronica and Archie depart abruptly, and Betty and Jughead watch them go. Archie’s face is green. Jughead wonders how much his sometimes innocent friend can take, and wonders if he should try again to persuade him to get therapy. It hadn’t met with much success last time.

Veronica, on the other hand, looks like she had when she’d been afraid her father had Jason killed; but Betty’s said that she thinks Veronica is much closer to her father than a few months ago.

For Betty and Archie’s sake, Jughead hopes that Veronica’s spirited defence of her father’s aims for the Southside didn’t represent a spirit defence of something much, much worse. He and Betty had pretty much avoided Hiram Lodge yesterday at the confirmation, but he remembers the way that Mr Lodge had fixed his gaze on them at the protest.

He wonders how strange everyone would find it if he wrapped himself around Betty in the middle of the student lounge.

He settles for tucking her closer into his side, pressing a kiss to the tip of her nose. She flushes slightly, and he remembers how she’d looked last night, coming with a rosy blush on her cheeks. For the first time in his life, he thinks he might be faced with that most stereotypical thing, an inappropriately-timed erection at school.

“Can you take point with Mayor McCoy?” says Toni. “We gave her the head, but you’ve talked with her before. And apparently, we come across as a little… abrasive.”

Cheryl looks embarrassed.

“Us?” Betty is surprised. “Shouldn’t it be all of us?”

Toni sighs.

“It’s getting better,” she says hesitantly, “but us Serpents, we have a meeting after school.”

Jughead looks at Sweet Pea and Fangs. They nod, both less reluctant than Toni.

“Is it actually getting better?” asks Jughead. Betty notices that he very carefully doesn’t mention his father or the recently departed Penny.

“I think so,” says Toni.

“There’s already less dealing,” says Sweet Pea.

So they head to the Mayor’s office. It’s unfair but typical, Betty thinks, that their post-sex glow should be disrupted by so much going on in the town. Alice’s grief at her divorce, Hiram Lodge’s machinations, and whatever might now be going on with Jughead’s dad… they’re all ruining the mood that she wanted to keep after last night.

Mayor McCoy just looks tired.

“Look at this,” Jughead demands. “Sunnyside Trailer Park; The Twilight Drive-In; Southside High. What do they have in common?”

“I don’t know, Jughead,” says the mayor, her head in her hands. “I have a feeling you’re going to tell me.”

“They’re all town land, or they were,” says Betty coolly.

“Two of them have been shut down,” continues Jughead. “Now Sunnyside’s in jeopardy. I can feel someone’s invisible hand behind all of this.”

“Just what are you insinuating?!” The mayor finally loses her temper, stands to smack the desk.

“If you’re accepting donations from the Lodges for these land deals,” says Jughead, finally naming the suspicion that they’ve all had, “then you need to come clean to the public, before it’s too late.”

McCoy stares them down, quivering with rage. Gone is Josie’s friendly but scary mom, the woman who asked Betty to give the speech. Instead, Mrs McCoy is the lawyer-politician who’d struck fear into the hearts of numerous opponents for decades.

Jughead holds her gaze for a moment, before shrugging in disgust. Betty takes that as their cue to leave, and they depart the town hall, just as disappointed as the last time they tried to appeal to the proper authorities.

Betty is nestled into the warm collar of her coat, looking nervy, as she sits on the front step of her house. Jughead is pacing just in front of her, beanie off. He needs to have this conversation, after everything that had happened in the last couple of days.

“Betty,” he says. “I talked to my dad. Last night, at the Wyrm, after everything.”

“Oh,” she says, lip trembling. “Yeah, Jughead, I saw.”

He sighs.

“I want to be selfish,” he mutters. “I don’t want you to think less of me, Betty, but I really want to be selfish.”

“Okay,” she says again.

“He wants me to go home,” he blurts. “He thinks Penny’s gone now, that it would be safe for me to live with him. Says now he knows he stopped drinking once, he can do it again. He wants me to go back, Betty. And everything I said before he went back to the Serpents still stands. It might be good for him, to have me there, to remind him of… stuff.”

“Stuff.” Betty’s repeat is scared. She looks as if she’s about to cry, and he hates that he’s put that look on her face.

He drops to sit beside her.

“I don’t want it.” He rests his chin on his crossed fingers. “Betty, I might be a terrible son, but I don’t want it. I don’t want to go back to him, I don’t want to live in a trailer without a bed or run away the next time he gets worse, I don’t want to be his fucking morality pet!”

He thinks he’s going to cry.

Betty leans against him.

“I’m so selfish,” he whispers. “I’ve helped destroy your family, and I don’t want to go home to see the last ruins of mine. I just want to stay here with you.”

“Then do,” she whispers into his ear, and he shudders. “Stay with me. You haven’t destroyed anything; my parents did that to themselves. You love your dad, Jug, but you don’t owe him anything.”

“You and Alice-”

“I love you,” says Betty. “I want to be selfish too. I want you here with me, safe, so we can face everything together. My mom is… dealing with stuff, but I’ll help her.”

“I’ll help you too,” whispers Jughead, kissing her temple. He can’t bear the idea of losing this closeness any more. “I want to help. Alice has done a lot for me. More than Gladys ever has.”

Betty clasps his hands in hers, and he wonders how either of them made it this far with such disastrous parents. He wonders how it must feel to be Archie, to have two loving, competent parents who don’t either cage their child or let him go out of a lack of care.

“Is that what he asked you at the Whyte Wyrm?” asks Betty. Clever, wonderful Betty; of course she’d noticed, stuff like that didn’t slip past her.

“I told him I’d think about it,” he replies, nodding. “It took me about four seconds to think about it, really, I just haven’t had the courage to tell him yet.”

“Is that what Sweet Pea asked you about?”

“Yeah, he wants to know. Says he doesn’t want to put pressure on me. Says it will all go through proper channels, Mrs Weiss, if I decide.”

“Can he even look after a kid? Isn’t he on parole?”

Jughead shrugs tiredly, but he feels better now. It hadn’t even been on his mind last night, he’d been occupied with nothing but Betty and the pleasure of being with her in every sense of the word. Today, though, with Alice’s misery and Sweet Pea’s reminder, he’s been feeling guilty about not mentioning it to Betty.

Betty, being Betty, understands what a parent tearing you apart can feel like.

They head inside, to find a much better and very embarrassed Alice. None of them mention her night out, but she unbends far enough to order takeout from Pop’s, and to chat companionably about the fallout from both of their articles.

“I could always bring the PTA down on Wetherbee’s head,” says Alice thoughtfully, fork raking through her salad. Jughead pushes the fries towards her, and she takes one absent-mindedly. Betty is astonished by both of them. “If he’s determined to police your articles, I can make sure we police him. Who watches the watchers? I’ll watch him, see how he likes it.”

“Really, Mrs Cooper?”

“Well,” says Alice. “Your friend wrote an article on local history. It wasn’t exactly inappropriate, was it? No, I’ll see what I can do.”

It’s the most comfortable Jughead has ever looked at the dinner table, and Jughead feels terribly guilty that it took Hal’s departure to get here; but Alice seems more resigned, cautiously making plans for life after Hal, and Betty seems oddly content with the new state of affairs in her family’s life.

They trip upstairs carefully. Alice watches them go into their separate bedrooms.

Within an hour, Betty’s in his bedroom. 

They end up on their knees, Betty in his arms in front of him with those beautiful toned cheerleader thighs stretched across his own skinny ones. She comes with his hand over her mouth to keep her quiet, and he thinks it’s the best thing he’s ever experienced, as her back arches against his front, and he feels the way her body tenses and releases all around him.

_Oh, God,_ he thinks. _How do people stop themselves doing this constantly, if they’re always attracted to people this way? God, god, I never want to stop_.

He comes with a gasp into Betty’s ear, collapsing them both on to their side. He drapes himself over Betty, stretched out in his bed, all soft skin and warmth.

“I need to pee,” whispers Betty drowsily. He releases her, marvelling at her practicality, even after what they just did.

She tiptoes back in a few moments later, and he curls around her again. This time, he’s staying here as a choice. Betty actually wants him here, and he wants to be here. It isn’t his only option, or a last-ditch effort to avoid homelessness.

“Stay with me,” she says sleepily, always in sync with him. He kisses her ear.

“Gladly. I love you. Go to sleep.”

He hears a car move outside Archie’s house, and tries to ignore it.

“What would Archie do this late?”

“Let’s hope it’s just Veronica sending a sex chariot,” mumbles Betty.

“Betty!”

“Oh, I’m feeling very generous. Orgasms for everyone tonight.”

Jughead chuckles.

God, he hopes she’s right.

It turns out that Hiram and Veronica did go and visit the Southside: specifically FP, as Jughead had feared. The Serpents and the other Sunnysiders all gathered outside, like it was some great state visit, like the Trumps visiting the British Royal Family: a corrupt property developer making a symbolic gesture to an unelected monarch. Sweet Pea and Fangs watched from a distance, watched Hiram pretending to play nice with the Southsiders.

“He turns up, all ‘oh I understand you guys, I came from nothing too’,” says Fangs, “But then the asshole’s wearing a fur coat? Man, I bet that cost more than my old man makes in a year!”

“He offered to pay Sunnyside’s back rent, as a ‘gesture of good faith’,” snarls Sweet Pea. “Says he has nothing to do with Tall Boy or Penny. Says we only have their word for it; and I guess they’re gone, so…”

“So what did Mr Jones say?” prompts Betty.

“Accepted the deal,” says Sweet Pea. “What can he do? It’s a life saver for most of the people in the trailer park.”

Jughead sighs.

“I know it puts _us_ in debt to him, Jones,” says Fangs, looking disappointed, “but we don’t have long enough. People were going to start losing their homes.”

It’s a fear Betty never grew up with, and she can’t blame them. She puts a hand on Jughead’s leg, remembering that Jughead spent weeks – months, maybe – homeless, because he couldn’t face living with FP any more.

But Jughead was a lone kid, not a family with children, or an older person with no hope of finding shelter. She hopes he’s self-aware enough to realise that.

Perhaps he is, as his temper settles visibly beside her.

“It doesn’t put us in debt to him,” says Jughead. “Was there a price?”

“Not that we know of,” says Sweet Pea. “How would we know? We only know what your dad told us.”

“So we’ll keep investigating, then,” says Betty defiantly. “Even if my dad’s in bed with the devil again, we’ll keep the fight going here.”

Sweet Pea gives them both a nod. It’s a far cry from their first interactions, when Betty was terrified that the junior Serpents would either take her boyfriend away or kill him, and Sweet Pea thought they were less than nothing for avoiding Serpent life.

Mayor McCoy resigns the next day. Betty sees Veronica watching the news broadcast, with a sad smile on her face. She almost asks Veronica why it’s happening, and what her family are up to; but she remembers again that Veronica went with Hiram to visit FP, and she keeps her mouth shut. Sooner or later, Veronica will either tell her the truth, or they’ll become enemies, and Betty would rather put that moment off for as long as possible.

Instead, she sees Cheryl approaching her with a dour look on her face. Betty hopes that Cheryl’s been kept in the loop through her new, tentative friendship with Toni Topaz, and prepares to apologise for ditching her by accident.

Before she can start, Cheryl holds up her hand.

“I wasn’t going to tell you this, cousin,” she says, “But it kept me awake as I tossed and turned in my canopy sleigh-bed, and I came to realise that I’d want to know the truth. Please believe me when I tell you I take no pleasure in telling you this.”

“What, Cheryl?”

“It seems your father is having an affair with my mother.”

Betty stares at Cheryl, and then closes her locker gently.

Hal and Penelope? Hal, with his dead cousin’s wife? God, that was… and only a day after leaving her mom?Disgust fills her veins. Her father has already been a disappointment to her on so many levels, has treated her and Polly and Alice so badly, and this is just one final thing to ruin her idealised childhood memories of him. She can’t imagine how he could fall any further in her estimation.

“Thank you for letting me know, Cheryl,” she says dangerously. Cheryl looks genuinely upset to be telling her. It’s a far cry from the Cheryl of a few months ago who took pleasure in mocking Polly’s disappearance. “I’m sorry, too.”

“You don’t want to?”

They sit in a booth at Pop’s. There’s a half-drunk cup of coffee on the table, and nothing else. Jughead feels terribly guilty at the disappointment on his father’s face, but he knows he’s doing the right thing. Oddly enough, when he’d mentioned setting up this meeting to Alice, and what it was about, she’d told him the same thing. She said she’d come with them, needing the distraction after Betty told her Cheryl’s message.

Alice is sitting in the booth alongside FP, looking tense.

“Is it because of the trailer park?” FP’s voice shakes, and he looks ashamed. “Boy, I cut a deal so we won’t lose any of it. I’m trying to do the right thing by all of us, to make up for all the mistakes I’ve made.”

  
_“Trying,”_ Jughead emphasises, and instantly feels worse as his father’s face falls. “No, Dad, that’s not it. I just… I can’t do it, Dad. Everything’s finally beginning to go okay for me, and if it’s okay with Mrs Cooper…?”

Alice nods encouragingly.

“I’d like to stay where I am,” says Jughead. “I’m sorry, Dad. I’m just so tired.”

FP sighs, and runs his hands through his hair.

“Of course,” he says, like it breaks his heart to agree. “Of course, I want what’s best for you, Jug. But maybe… maybe I could come over to see you sometimes? Alice? I don’t want to completely lose the only family I have left.”

Alice gives him a cautious smile.

“Won’t that make the neighbours talk,” she says.

“I’ll visit the Southside, too,” says Jughead. “I’m not ashamed of coming from there. I just… Dad. You’re still in the Serpents. I know you think you’re doing the right thing, but you made a deal with Hiram Lodge.”

The facts of Jason’s kidnapping and Penny Peabody remain unspoken. Betty, who’s been unusually quiet through all of this, looks at FP with sadness as she rests her head on Jughead’s shoulder. Her own father has let her down enough today, and Jughead wishes that she hadn’t come here to see this. But he couldn’t persuade her to stay at home, and he’s glad as ever of her presence.

FP seems to accept this, and he pays their bill, before squeezing Alice’s shoulder to get past.

“Thank you for looking after him, Alice,” he says, and he seems like he really means it.

There is no pretence that they won’t be sleeping together that night, after Alice goes to her own room. It’s been yet another long day for them, and when Betty whispers _make me feel good, pleas_ e, he’s aching to comply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I fucking LOVED this episode in canon.
> 
> first off, jughead trying to check in with betty after sex? it was so goddamn sweet and healthy. more jugheads in other works of fiction please
> 
> second, bonding and cuddling over covering up a murder? man, when riverdale commits to the insanity, it's so much fun. this, 4x16, 4x19, BANGING IN THE CAR AFTER BURNING DOWN A DRUG LAB????? all of this
> 
> also can everyone keep tweeting that writer about unscripted moments please, he's getting really annoyed about it and that warms my heart. like, i'm sorry lili and cole can act and invest in their characters and come up with stuff, many writers and directors would relish that cooperation, but I guess you don't understand the appeal of your own show loooooooolllll, take the success and run with it bro?


	15. The Hills Have Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Veronica invites Betty and Jughead up to Lodge Lodge for the weekend. Absolutely no-one has any ulterior motives.

“My mom’s back on the game,” says Cheryl bitterly, plonking herself down at one of the Blue and Gold’s desks.

“Hello, Cheryl,” says Betty, closing her book. “How are you?”

“I’m pissed off, sweet cousin.” Cheryl sighs. “I confronted my mother about her… menage, with your father, and she ended it.”

“They did?” says Betty, surprised. She’s heard of none of it from her father, who is still mercifully absent. 

“Apparently I drove her to it,” spits Cheryl. “I’m sorry my discomfort with both sex work and adultery in the house I live in is offensive to her. Apparently that makes me a ‘jealous, spite-filled, starving, emotional anorexic’, because my mother can’t do anything else with her life!”

“Oh, Cheryl,” says Betty. “That… sucks.”

Cheryl looks genuinely miserable. Normally, she’d just be furious, or pretend to be unaffected, but after the escalation of Penelope’s personal attacks on her is clearly hurting. Betty, for the first time in her life, draws her cousin into a hug.

“Why can’t she want what’s good for me, Betty?” asks Cheryl quietly. “I’ve always been an afterthought to her, not even the spare to Jason’s heir. And now that it’s just us, she doesn’t bother to hide the fact that she doesn’t care about me. She’d throw me out in a moment, if that weren’t so embarrassing. I just… I can’t bear to live under the same roof as her, these days.”

She rests on Betty’s shoulder.

“I miss Jason,” she whispers. “I miss him so much.”

“Do you want me to call Polly?” suggests Betty. “Maybe she’d let you see the twins.”

Cheryl wipes tears from her eyes.

“Do you think she would come?”

“I don’t know,” says Betty honestly, and she tears up herself. “She keeps rejecting our calls.”

She and Cheryl sit there for a while, a comfortable silence between them. 

“I’m sorry for all those years,” says Cheryl. “I’m sorry I took my anger out on you. And all the others.”

Betty doesn’t say that it’s okay, because it wasn’t. She knows it wasn’t, and that she didn’t deserve it.

But she knows what it’s like to struggle with the pressures of family, and stress, and everything going on around them. She internalises hers, turns it on herself, and Cheryl does the opposite. She can’t forgive Cheryl, exactly, but she does hope that they can have something better in the future.

Maybe they can even be friends.

God, she can’t imagine telling her summer-self that. _Hey, Betty, by the new year, you’ll be in love with Jughead Jones, and you’ll be friends with Cheryl Blossom!_

They walk past Kevin, flirting unsuccessfully with Moose by the lockers. Cheryl casts a long look at Moose, unfriendly as ever.

“Poor Kevin,” she murmurs to Betty.

“It must be hard, being gay in a small town like this,” says Betty, remembering Kevin’s outburst back in the autumn. “Joaquin turned out to be so awful. And Moose keeps messing him about.”

“Must be hard,” says Cheryl coolly.

Betty remembers that she’s let other friendships fall by the roadside, and when Veronica suggests going up to the lakehouse for the weekend, she jumps at the chance.

“That sounds heavenly, V,” she says, and she’s completely serious. “What do you say, Jug? Can you bear it?”

Jughead looks up at her, pensive.

“As long as it’s cool with Mr Lodge,” he says, after pausing slightly too long. 

“Mr Lodge actually suggested it,” says Archie, and Veronica nods.

“Well, then, cue the duelling banjos.”

They all sit there in silence. Betty understands the _Deliverance_ reference, although she thinks it’s a little rude.

“What? Also, I guess it would give me the chance to work on my novel,” he says thoughtfully, although Betty can read him like a book, and she can see plans flickering across his features.

“Excellent! Just remember, Jughead,” Veronica says. “The point of this luxury weekend is to relax and unplug.”

“Luxury and weekend! Two of my favourite words,” says Cheryl wistfully, entering the lounge. 

“Oh, sorry, Cheryl,” says Veronica. “It was kind of meant to be… like a romantic couples only thing?”

“I see,” says Cheryl, and that brittle rage that Betty’s more used to reappears on her face. “How lovely. I’m sure you’ll have lots of fun.”

She disappears.

“Scuse me,” says Betty, and chases after her cousin. “Cheryl. Cheryl!”

Cheryl turns to look at her, smile plastered across her red lips.

“What is it, cousin? Shouldn’t you be preparing for your little trip?”

“Cheryl,” says Betty. “Let me talk to Veronica. This weekend away would be good for you, to get you away from Penelope for a while. I… I’d like it if you came. You’re our friend too.”

“Betty,” says Cheryl, and her face softens. “It’s fine. And… I thought I was going to be Veronica’s, uh, friend, for a while, but I guess that isn’t happening. Honestly. It would be too painful to go and fifth-wheel, now Veronica’s said it’s a couple’s thing.”

“You are her friend,” Betty insists, but something unreadable crosses Cheryl’s face.

“It’s okay, Betty,” she says. “Go and have fun. I’m glad some of us can.”

Betty appears in the Blue and Gold, and fixes Jughead with a look that lets him know he’s in trouble.

“What’s up?”

“Okay, don’t get me wrong, I’m thrilled that you’re up for this weekend away, but,” she says, sauntering towards him and running her hands up his lapels, “why I am I slightly suspicious?”

“Ah,” says Jughead, and he wonders how he’s going to get through the rest of his life with a girlfriend who can see through him like this. (Not that he really minds). “Possibly because I need a new source of intel for my article on Hiram Lodge, and I was just thinking that that could be Veronica.”

Betty sighs.

“She’s on the inside of her family business,” he clarifies. “Maybe we can-”

“Jug,” says Betty, pulling back from him. “I know we need something, but… can we please not investigate my best friend when she’s doing something nice? We’ve hardly seen each other recently, I just… I need this weekend to be an escape, just one last good time for all four of us before this all blows up in our faces.”

“All right,” says Jughead, and he leans in to grasp her shoulders. He takes her point; they’ve all been skirting around each other lately, and it would be nice to try to hang out with Archie without wondering how far he’s fallen into Hiram Lodge’s clutches. “I solemnly promise I’ll behave myself.” 

He presses a kiss to her forehead, and she looks up at him. Her sceptical grin is fond.

“Or I’ll try to,” he amends, and she leans in for another kiss.

Alice lets them go with surprisingly little objection, apparently accepting or ignoring the lie that Betty and Jughead will be sharing with Veronica and Archie respectively. As Jughead hangs around on the front step, waiting for Betty to stop packing, a trickle of dread goes down his spine.

Is someone watching him?

On Elm Street, there are always people watching, but they’re standard curtain-twitchers, waiting for some Stepford nonsense to gossip about. This is different. Jughead feels watched, hunted, like someone out there is waiting for him, waiting for a chance to get at him.

Betty slams the front door, and he jumps.

“You okay, Jug?” she asks.

“Yeah,” he says, uncertain. “I think so. Just… someone walking over my grave, or something.”

“Come on,” says Betty. “Let’s get out of town for a while. It’ll do us all good.”

“It’s literally the last house on the left,” says Jughead delightedly, as they leave Veronica’s enormous black town car. Betty rolls her eyes.

“Are you going to just name horror movies all weekend?” she asks. 

“Aw, Betty, you don’t want to read the Necronomicon with me? Hail to the King, baby.”

“I am not watching _Evil Dead_ again, Jug.”

“Okay, how about _Cabin in the Woods_?”

“Archie’s my own red-head Chris Hemsworth,” calls Veronica, provoking a laugh from Jughead.

Archie is struggling with about eight bags, as Veronica dismisses Andre. Betty’s never been sure what to make of Andre, who’d replaced the more avuncular Smithers within a week of Hiram’s arrival in town.

Two of the bags are her and Jughead’s. She thinks the rest are Veronica’s, and smiles fondly.

 _Hope you’re okay,_ she texts Cheryl, and receives an angry selfie in response, of Cheryl and Toni in the Riverdale High bathrooms.

 _War council,_ it says _. What is the most devastating lipstick colour to wear to a debate against Hiram Lodge?_

Betty laughs, and sends back a shrug.

Less than half an hour later, she and Jughead are settling into their room, and the squeaking of bedsprings comes through the walls.

“Oh my god,” she says, shrinking into her clothes. “Please, no, why couldn’t Mr Lodge afford thicker walls? Are they serious?”

“Or, like, quieter beds,” adds Jughead, tugging his hat down over his ears. “God, can’t they ever just have, like, a conversation? Is that the first thing they need to do here? Not even unpacking?”

Archie and Veronica reappear to find them peacefully sitting in the expansive lounge, discussing which woodsy horror movie they’d rather be part of.

“Hey, guys,” says Archie enthusiastically, apparently having no idea that Betty and Jughead had decamped to the lounge to avoid hearing their friends have sex.

“You guys liked the room?” asks Veronica. “The furniture’s all original.”

Jughead snorts, and Betty smacks his arm.

“It’s lovely, V,” she says.

Veronica claps her hands together delightedly.

“I think,” she says, “that the occasion calls for my famous jalapeno margaritas!”

Betty hears Jughead audibly swallow, and fixes a smile on her face.

The conversation goes well for about half an hour, before Jughead can’t stop himself, and starts prying into the SoDale project, the Shadow Lake community, and Hiram Lodge in general.

“Jughead,” says Betty wearily. “Please, can we talk about something more fun than work?”

“I’m just making conversation, Betty,” he says, smirking, and she thinks she’s going to smack him again.

Veronica whispers something to Archie, and Betty hopes she hasn’t picked up on Jughead’s intentions.

Instead, she rises to her feet.

“Guys,” she says. “I think it’s time we got into our swimsuits.”

Jughead has never been the kind of person to salivate over half-naked people, but cuddling with a swimsuit clad Betty while he’s bare-chested gives him a peculiar sense of satisfaction, especially when he sees Archie looking at Betty with slightly too much admiration.

 _Your own girlfriend is right next to you, Archie,_ he thinks _. Pay attention to her_.

The hot tub does relax him, though. This is the most time he’s spent in swimming trunks since he was a child, and he unwinds enough to hold Betty all night, even to the point of canoodling her a little as he gets drunker. She seems a little irritated that he took a while to drop his line of questioning earlier, and he feels guilty that he ignored her wishes, and makes more of an effort to talk to Veronica and Archie as a consequence.

It’s kind of fun. He enjoys needling Archie about his newfound interest in wrestling.

She’s still a little stiff with him, and it continues until they return to the house.

“Did you enjoy that, Jug?” she asks, heading into the bathroom. “Pumping our friend for information, while she’s taking us on holiday?”

“Mmhm,” says Jughead non-committally. “I forgot how funny it was to watch Archie defend whatever hobby he’s interested in this week.”

“Oh,” says Betty. “Well, in that case, I might have to punish you.”

She swings open the doors, and his draw drops.

As good as she’d looked in that little black swimsuit, she looks incredibly good in… whatever this is. It’s lingerie, sure, and he’s seen her in less; but unlike the pretty, practical pastel underwear he’s normally seen her in, this is all thick black lace, emphasising the contrast with her skin. Her ass looks… incredible, and her breasts are…

Well.

“I packed this,” she said, stalking towards him, “In case you needed a distraction from your sleuthing.”

He sits up, desperately hard. This is new to them, and he thinks he likes it.

She steps between his legs, all assertiveness and control.

“Consider,” he says, wrapping his hands around her waist, “me,” he gazes at that soft body, “distracted.”

She laughs, and pushes him onto his back, crawling on top of him.

“Is this okay?” she asks, straddling his hips. “I know we haven’t talked about this. I just thought… maybe you’d like to try it?”

“Oh, yeah, Betty, I’d like to.”

The bed squeaks underneath them, as Betty writhes on his lap, that wonderful bra now tugged down so he can bite at her nipples when she lets him up. She relaxes the grip she has on his wrists, and he sits up, groping at her back as she moans.

“They’re going to be able to hear us,” he gasps, hand on her ass, and he gives her a soft spank. She jerks, and whimpers.

“I don’t care,” she says. “I don’t care, it feels so good.”

She yanks on his hair as she comes. He sees why she likes it.

The next morning, Betty leaves her nice warm nest with Jughead to find chaos. Veronica hauls her out of the house before she can even have coffee.

“Archie’s an idiot,” Veronica says forcefully.

“Okay,” says Betty, not disagreeing.

“He goes along with my dad, when he wants me out of town? He wants me protected, instead of aware? I don’t need that from my _dad,_ let alone my boyfriend!”

Betty wonders if Veronica’s irritation with her father might be a good sign; but she remembers that Veronica is just furious not to be included. Before Hiram got home, she’d have been furious that Hiram was up to anything at all. The whiplash confuses her.

Shadow Lake is a strange little community, and the little shops are mostly closed for the winter. They walk until they find the only open one, where Veronica openly flirts with the young shopkeeper.

“Come on, V, you’re arguing with Archie, not single.”

“Speaking of which,” says Veronica, one eyebrow raising sharply, “unless that was some very aggressive hand holding I heard last night…?”

Betty manages an embarrassed half-laugh, remembers that she told Jughead she didn’t care if the others could hear them.

“So when did that start?”

“Um,” says Betty. “It’s been a while? We, uh, I mean, we live together, so it’s been… a thing.”

“Wow,” says Veronica. “Go you, girl. So how’s it been? You know. With you and Jughead.”

“Oh,” says Betty, “Things have been… nice.”

“Nice? Nice is not what I heard last night.”

Betty grins. It’s been hard not having Veronica around as much to spill to, and she doesn’t think she’d be comfortable talking about this with Kevin, let alone Cheryl. Not that she’s entirely comfortable with talking about this with the girl whose father is actively campaigning against Toni’s protest and the Blue and Gold; but she think she could use the gossip.

“Okay, well, I, um, I might have brought some special stuff up to the cabin to distract him?”

Veronica gasps in delight.

“Tell me everything!” she crows.

(Betty doesn’t. Some stuff is only for her and Jughead.)

Jughead has never felt less connected with Archie, sitting out here in the woods, like they’re camping, like they’re little kids again.

Archie is complaining about Veronica.

“I just want to protect her, you know?” he says. “I really like her. I’m trying all this new stuff to stay with her, to impress her dad, but she doesn’t seem to want that.”

“Well, Archie,” says Jughead, resisting his ever-present urge to roll his eyes, “maybe you should think about what _she_ wants.”

“Yeah,” says Archie, shaking his head. “Yeah, you’re right. I’ll apologise, though I still think I was right.”

“About what?”

“No, nothing, Jug.”

“It’s odd, isn’t it?” says Jughead, trying not to sound irritated. “On paper, we should all be so close. Veronica and Betty are best friends. You and I are… best friends. You and Betty have been friends forever. But do you ever feel like we never end up hanging out that much? We’ve all had such different interests, since the Jason Blossom murders.”

Archie looks thoughtful.

“You and Betty are getting totally involved with that stuff on the Southside, right?”

“Yeah, Arch, that ‘stuff’.”

“And me and Veronica are both trying to help Mr Lodge with his plans for the town.”

Jughead must not be able to hide the scepticism on his face, because Archie leans forward earnestly.

“He’s got some great ideas, Jug,” he says. “He could really help the town.”

“Mmhm,” Jughead replies.

They sit there in silence. Jughead hopes the girls get back soon. He wonders when he and Archie stopped being able to communicate.

The girls return before long, laden with supplies from the village. Jughead decides to let Veronica and Archie fight out whatever they’re going through, and heads over to Betty.

“Hello,” she says, and leans up to peck him on the lips. “I might need to call Kevin. Apparently his dad and Josie’s mom have been having an affair, so he’s absolutely losing it. Understandably.”

“Wow,” says Jughead. Jesus, poor Kevin. Poor Josie. “Although, uh, the Mayor and the Sheriff? That’s kind of…”

“Yeah,” says Betty, wincing. “But right now, I need to be there for Kevin.” 

Jughead nods, and thinks again, _poor Kevin_.

His own phone lights up, and starts to vibrate.

“It’s Sweet Pea,” he says, and Betty waves him away, picking up her own phone with a sigh.

“Hey, Sweet Pea, everything okay?”

“ _Yeah, I think so? But it seems like Hiram actually came through with what he offered your old man! The Sunnyside back rent is all paid off in full! People are going to be able to keep their homes, Jones, and they’re saying we shamed him into it_!”

“I guess… that’s great?”

 _“Maybe not,”_ clarifies Sweet Pea _. “He paid off the back rent because he BOUGHT Sunnyside, Jughead. He owns it now.”_

“Fuck,” says Jughead. “Do the others know?”

“ _Yeah, Fangs, Toni, Cheryl and me are all here. But it can wait, I guess, Jones, we gotta think about this after the weekend. Right now I just want to get drunk. Cheryl wants us to go up to her big posh house to piss her mom off, so I’m gonna go try rich people drinks._ ”

  
“Alright,” says Jughead tiredly. “Have fun, I guess. Tell the others I’m sorry.”

He turns to the others, and walks over to Betty.

“I know you don’t want me to cause drama while we’re here,” he says quietly, once she’s finished her conversation with Kevin. “But Hiram Lodge just bought Sunnyside Trailer Park.”

“He bought it?!”

“Yeah.” Jughead sighs. “First the Twilight Drive-In, then Southside High, now this. He’s just been gobbling up bits of the Southside ‘til he owns almost all of it.”

“Damn,” Betty sighs. “I mean, maybe it’s a good thing? People are getting to keep their homes, right?”

“Not if it’s another tactic. But… I know you want this weekend. The others are all having a party at Thistlehouse to distract themselves, and you… you want that too.”

“I do,” says Betty, and she clutches his lapels. “I promise we’ll get into it on Monday, okay?”

“Okay.” Jughead kisses her forehead again. “Let’s have fun for the rest of the weekend. Let’s just waste Hiram Lodge’s food and electricity bills.”

That vow doesn't very long.

They start playing Monopoly, and Betty almost laughs when she sees that Veronica only owns the most acquisitive and capitalist of board games. Veronica also excels at making money, her piles of bills towering over everyone else’s.

Betty still has more than Jughead, who is making a game of refusing to acquire properties, sending her amused looks every time Veronica tells Archie how to make more money. Veronica seems fondly annoyed by her boyfriend’s confusion.

Betty’s phone rings, and she assumes it’s Kevin, still heartbroken.

“Ew, it’s my mom,” she says, cringing. “Should I answer it?”

Everyone tells her not to, but she picks up anyway.

 _“Betty,”_ says Alice’s voice, trembling. _“Honey, Hiram Lodge bought the Register. Your piece of shit father sold that bastard the newspaper. I don’t want you to panic yet, baby, but I think we might be in trouble. Don’t… don’t come home. I should have waited until the weekend was over to tell you. I’m so sorry, Betty. Please… just have fun.”_

Alice hangs up abruptly, but it’s too late. Betty can’t keep pretending that this weekend can be an escape, not when all of this has been going on.

“That was my mom,” she says, turning to the others and trying to maintain her composure. “She’s freaking out because Hiram Lodge just bought the Riverdale Register.”

They’re somehow all on their feet in a moment. Jughead looms beside her, and she’s sorry she ever asked him to drop his questions. Archie seems to have taken up the same position alongside Veronica, trying to look intimidating. 

Veronica looks surprisingly worried.

“Did you know about this?” Betty demands. “Did you know your dad was buying the Register?”

“No, Betty, of course not!”

Veronica seems sincere, but Betty has no idea about her truthfulness these days.

“See, this is what I’ve been worrying about,” Jughead says, and he steps forwards.

“Relax, Jughead,” says Archie, and he looks at them both dismissively.

“Don’t tell me to relax,” snaps Jughead.

“Is that why you brought us both up here?” asks Betty, and Jughead nods fervently. “To get some of us out of Riverdale, while your dad does these things?”

“Okay, now who sounds crazy?” says Veronica, as if Hiram hadn’t suggested the trip in the first place.

“Lodge Industries has been buying properties all over the Southside,” says Jughead coolly. “Including Sunnyside, literally today. Now he buys the one newspaper in town, so people can’t report on what he’s doing? This is a classic gambit of mobsters, and criminals!”

“Shut the hell up, Jughead!” Betty can’t believe she’s hearing Archie, her childhood friend, going along with this. “There’s nothing, like, evil, about buying a newspaper!”

“Yeah, Rupert Murdoch’s really helped society!” yells Betty.

“Archie, this one’s simple, so even you might be able to understand it if you stopped brownnosing Hiram for like, two seconds! He’s trying to silence the free press, to stop Mrs Cooper from coming after him!” Jughead’s tone is genuinely disgusted, as if he can’t understand Archie either.

“God, I am so sick of you guys’ vendetta against my dad! He’s done plenty of good things.”

“Name one thing,” snaps Betty, and then realises that there is no good way to end this. It’s too late.

“Jughead,” she says, putting her hand on her boyfriend’s chest before he can put himself in range of Archie’s fists. “Come on. We should go.”

“What, are you going to walk back to Riverdale?” asks Veronica, sneering at them.

“If we have to,” says Betty. “I don’t want to stay here any longer.”

The sound of breaking glass reaches their ears, and they are all shocked into silence.

Jughead spends the whole robbery trying to shelter Betty, as if he’d be any use in a fight against these idiots with axes. He feels her hands curved around his arm, her body against his back, and he knows she’s trying to protect him too.

When they get to their knees, he thinks they really might die. He feels hyperaware of the warmth of her beside him, and he can only think how unfair it is that they didn’t get more time.

Veronica’s silent alarm goes off, and the thieves flee. As Archie goes after them, he feels Betty holding his arm again, and she pulls him back.

“But Archie-”

“Stay here,” she says, gesturing at Veronica, who is gazing out of the door hopelessly after Archie. “Stay with me. We’re safe.”

She wraps her arms round him, and he cradles her head. Images of blonde hair streaked with blood fill his mind, of how it might have gone.

When Archie returns, and the security company arrive, they’re still there, holding each other. Jughead knows he’s been crying silently into her hair for at least twenty minutes, just breathing her in. He thinks she’s doing the same.

They go to Pop’s, form a fragile truce with Veronica and Archie, although nothing is even slightly solved. Andre takes the other two back to the Pembrooke together, and Jughead knows that Archie will be even more closely linked to Hiram Lodge than ever.

“Looks like the others had fun,” says Betty tiredly. She shows him Toni’s Instagram story of Cheryl on the table at Thistlehouse, with the caption _sensational._ “We’ll have to tell them the rest.”

“On Monday,” Jughead promises. “Tomorrow, let’s actually have that day off that we promised ourselves. We can watch crappy movies and eat junk food, and I promise not to make you watch a single thing that involves rural cabins.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

They head back to the house, electing not to let Alice know about their early return until the morning.

As Jughead ushers a dead on her feet Betty inside, he feels that same prickle on his neck that he felt the day before, and spins around to see if there’s anyone watching him.

Elm Street is empty, blue light glistening in the dark.

“Jug?” Betty pokes her head out. “Is something wrong?”

He looks one last time, and still sees no-one.

“No,” he says. “Nothing. I mean… No, I don’t think so.”

He can’t seem to shake the feeling that they’re being watched.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how is this even so loooong???
> 
> also I really liked the idea of Cheryl turning up at her house with a few southsiders she's made friends with, and openly defying Penelope by having fun and enjoying their company. I'm sorry there was no 'love, simon' scene, but I found the open product placement in the show incredibly egregious, since one of the main producers also produced the film!!!!


	16. There Will Be Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hiram's plan comes out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guys
> 
> it's a FILLER episode
> 
> I literally couldn't remember it in canon

FP steps inside the Coopers’ house, and as out of place as Jughead once felt here, he knows his father must feel even stranger. FP isn’t even wearing his Serpent jacket; he’s clean-shaven, just like the night of Homecoming, and he looks extremely nervous.

Jughead’s sitting in front of his and Betty’s new murder-board, although in this case, a ‘stranglehold-board’ might be a more apt description. They’ve got numerous theories about what Hiram Lodge has done to the town, and what he might be planning; but so far, it’s all conjecture. The Southsiders, Cheryl, Betty and he have spent weeks searching for some kind of evidence to link Hiram Lodge to it definitively.

They’ve found nothing. They still don’t know what the master plan is, and the timetable is clearly accelerating.

“What’s all this, Jughead?” says FP nervously, looking at all of the newspaper clippings, press releases and red string connecting things together. Jughead thinks he should have written PEPE EVIL over it, just for effect.

“Hopefully,” says Jughead, taking a gulp of cold coffee, “It’ll be an article that will expose Hiram Lodge’s plans. If we can fit the pieces together…”

“Jughead,” says FP nervously. “Boy, you need to drop this. He rescued us, he bought the trailer park!”

“He’s the only reason the trailer park was even in danger, Dad, or had you already forgotten what he paid Penny and Tall Boy to do?” snaps Jughead.

FP has the grace to look ashamed.

“Dad, please. Hiram Lodge just bought the Riverdale Register, he’s trying to silence dissenting voices before he makes his big play. He’s afraid of the exposure, and I want him to stay this way.”

“The Coopers sold the Register to Lodge?” FP sounds astonished, and glances up to see Alice entering the room.

“My ex-husband sold it, FP,” she says tartly. “I had no choice in the matter.”

“Ex?”

“Ex.” Alice looks at Jughead. “Your dad can stay for dinner, if he likes, and-”

“No, Alice,” says FP. “You’ve already done more than enough for me.”

Jughead decides to ignore whatever that means, and carries on staring uselessly at his laptop.

Betty meets Kevin in the Blue and Gold. He’s jittering about his father’s affair, heartbroken that his father has taken so long to let his mother know; but oddly, like Betty, he’s become reconciled to it surprisingly quickly.

“My mom’s never here,” he says. “But that doesn’t make not telling her about it right. Josie and I have made it clear that we won’t support either of our folks, until they tell my mom. Apparently Mr McCoy already knows? I don’t understand it. Why is love such a mess?”

“I don’t know,” replies Betty, and thinks of telling Kevin about her own father’s affair with Penelope Blossom. Before she can, Cheryl enters the room like a whirlwind.

“Cousin!” she says. “Kevin! Did I tell you what a glorious weekend I had with Toni? And Sweet Pea and Fangs, of course! …I hope I’m not interrupting something?”

“No,” says Kevin resignedly. “With the Serpents, huh?”

“They aren’t Serpents!” snaps Cheryl, and then calms. “At least… they’re not those Serpents. Or, not _just_ Serpents.”

It’s a fine distinction, but Betty is surprised that Cheryl’s felt the need to make it. And she knows exactly what she means by _those_ Serpents; the ones that hung around with Tall Boy, who think Penny should never have been exiled. When Jughead questioned his father about it yesterday, FP had mentioned those same older Serpents who thought that the younger Serpents should have been exiled instead, and that they should get back to dealing more seriously, now that the Ghoulies are gone.

God, it’s a mess.

Hal asks Alice for a divorce. It’s surprisingly calm, until they get on to the topic of Hiram Lodge buying the Riverdale Register.

Betty hides in her room with Jughead. They might be investigating the Lodges, but neither she nor her boyfriend have any desire to watch her parents’ shouting match. If Hal says anything meaningful, they can be sure that Alice will tell them.

And he’s still scowling at Jughead.

“Jughead!” calls Archie. Jughead stiffens; it’s the first time Archie has actively sought him out since… well, he can’t remember when.

“Jug, are you still investigating Hiram Lodge?”

Jughead almost snarks back at him, but manages to keep his cool.

“Yeah, Arch,” he says. “I am. That gonna be okay?”

“There’s gonna be a special election to replace Josie’s mom,” Archie blurts, pulling him into a quieter classroom. “The Lodges want my dad to run.”

“Your dad?”

Jughead can see it. Fred’s known throughout the community as a decent man, honest and respectable. If the Lodges have him on side, it’s good PR.

Archie sighs, and runs his hands through his hair.

“I don’t want him any more involved with the Lodges than he already is,” he admits, and his gaze is more clear than Jughead has seen in an age. “I can’t do that to him; and I can’t tell him not to run, because there will be consequences, for me and for him. I’m with Veronica, so… I’m in with the Lodges. I don’t want that for my dad.”

Jughead is speechless.

Archie offers him information for his article that breaks one last bit of his childhood memories. When Betty thought she’d saved Pop’s, it was an illusion. It was only the second of Hiram Lodge’s acquistions.

“He’s like Dracula,” Jughead muses. “Buying up properties all over the Southside, instead of Victorian London.”

He bites his tongue to stop himself calling Archie Renfrew.

He spreads his new map out in front of Alice and Betty a few hours later, showing them the new scope of the Lodge operation, the way the mobster has acquired land at criminally low prices with the aid of the Mayor, and even people like the unwitting Fred Andrews. 

“Pop’s was only a secret because no-one on the Northside cared about properties on the Southside,” he says, pointing to the high school and his beloved drive-in.

“Except us,” points out Betty mournfully, “which is when he started trying to scare us off.”

“Exactly,” says Jughead. “So we’ve got to reveal this about Pop’s. People have got to care about that, surely. Not all of them can be that selfish.”

Betty has to drag Jughead home from the Blue and Gold, as he insists that he needs to work on his article on Hiram Lodge.

“Do your homework first,” she says. “Give Wetherbee as little reason to tell you off as possible, once we publish this. We’ll need all the good faith from the school we can get.”

“Hmph,” says Jughead, but he laces his fingers with hers, and they walk home in a strange kind of defiant good humour.

When they open the door, the house is unusually full.

“Polly!” gasps Betty, dashing forwards to hold her sister. “What are you doing home?!”

“She just walked through the door with these perfect babies,” coos Alice. Her lap is full of what Betty assumes is the pink-clad female twin, Juniper. The even-more unfortunately named Dagwood is cradled in Polly’s arms, and she hands Betty the baby delightedly.

Betty’s nephew is small, pink, squirming and perfect. He wriggles a little before getting comfortable, and Betty thinks he’s the best thing she’s ever seen, matched only by his adorable twin.

Jughead looks unbearably sad, as he gently offers Dagwood a finger to nibble on. The baby accepts it delightedly, and claws with his tiny hands at Jughead’s index finger. Betty suddenly remembers how old Jughead had been when Jellybean was born, and how much he loved her.

“Where’s Dad?” asks Polly, looking at their reunited family fondly. “Are we all going to the will reading?”

The will reading, naturally, is disastrous. For a moment, Betty can hardly comprehend how much money she might inherit, and thinks of all the ways that maybe college will become easier for her; but then her mother bursts in with Attorney McCoy, embarrassing every single person in the room. It’s understandable that she’s furious with Hal, for the timing of the divorce, but… Jesus. While Alice has mellowed a lot in her treatment of Betty, it seems like some things will never change.

 _Sorry,_ mouths Betty, managing to catch Cheryl’s eye. Cheryl rolls her eyes expressively, gesturing to her own mother as if to say _I know exactly what that’s like_. She flashes Betty a grin of solidarity. Beside her, Toni looks completely riveted, enthralled by the messy Northsider drama.

Betty’s glad Cheryl’s got Toni with her as moral support. Cheryl deserves someone who’ll call her out on her more eccentric tendencies.

“The other half of my will,” the executor intones, “will go to my children, Jason and Cheryl.”

Oh, no. Poor Cheryl. Betty can’t bear the thought that Clifford wrote this will, and then murdered his own son in cold blood.

Cheryl stands at the podium, hands clasped to give a speech.

“As the one, true Blossom heir,” she says, fixing several distant cousins (does Betty count? Betty would be fine inheriting nothing from a _filicide)_ with a disguted look, “I feel it is my duty to say a few words. The Blossoms have bathed in blood to make this fortune. Riverdale was founded on the same principles. And I stand here before you today to say: no more of this, from Blossoms, or… others.”

She looks at Toni, and then meets Betty’s eye.

“No more profiting from exploitation,” she says. “No more turning people against one another to hide our own sins.”

“Hear, hear!” says a voice from the back of the room, and Clifford Blossom steps forward.

“Of course,” says Betty, “It wasn’t actually Clifford Blossom.”

Jughead is riveted by his girlfriend’s ghoulish recounting of events.

“So who was it?” he asks breathlessly. “As if Cheryl hadn’t already implied they were the Bathorys, who was this mysterious impostor?”

“A twin,” says Betty. “Like Jason and Cheryl, and Juniper and Dagwood; but identical. Clifford’s brother, Claudius.”

“Yikes,” says Jughead. “I feel like if you’re a rich family and you name the brother Claudius, you’re just asking for him to murder his brother. So what did Cheryl of Denmark do?”

“She fainted,” says Betty guiltily, “and we were all ushered out. Toni nearly had a fight with Penelope, but they wouldn’t let me or her stay with Cheryl. I worry about her, up in that place with only her horrible mother and her senile Nana for company.”

“Oh,” said Jughead. He hopes Cheryl’s okay, and feels bad for hoping for a more dramatic conclusion to the story. “So… you’re rich now?”

“Or I will be,” says Betty with a sigh. “I don’t want to be, not from the Blossoms. And it looks like Polly only came back for the will reading, not for us. Which I guess is okay? Juniper and Dagwood are Jason’s children, even if he never knew them, and that money should go to their future.”

Jughead wraps an arm around her.

“Would you like to hear what I was up to? It’s not nearly as dramatic as long-lost twins, or coming into a dodgy inheritance; but it is interesting.”

“Go on.”

“I should clarify that it’s not great news.”

“When is it ever?” Betty chuckles bitterly, and insinuates a hand under his jacket. They’re lying on her bed after a long day, and he thinks how much he’d love to lose himself in her. But he needs to keep her updated on developments, first.

“We can’t use Pop’s as proof,” says Jughead sadly. “It’s already broken his heart to have to sell the shop to Mr Lodge, and he’s kept it a secret from his mother. I can’t bring myself to make it worse; not at the expense of someone like Pop Tate. If it were almost anyone else in town… Did you know, Betty, when I was homeless, he used to ‘accidentally’ give me spare food?”

Betty shakes her head, gazing into his eyes. He hasn’t mentioned that much about his period of homelessness, even to her, because the memories are too painful.

“He’s a truly decent man.” Jughead sighs. “He’s been forced into this.”

“That’s…” Betty nods. “I get it, Jug.”

Jughead sighs again. 

“We’ve got to find something, or Hiram Lodge is going to own the whole town.”

Kevin meets Betty in the Blue and Gold for a discussion of a new gossip page, and Betty wonders if he could get on board with their investigation. He’s often gossiped about his father’s work before, and now that Sierra McCoy is out of the Mayor’s office, both she and Sheriff Keller might have less reason to go along with the Lodges.

“Do you know why Mayor McCoy resigned?” she asks, when Kevin mentions his father’s new girlfriend.

“Oh,” says Kevin, looking embarrassed. “Well, it seems like it was going to get out that she and dad were… you know… and so she decided to get out before it became a scandal. I mean, it is scandalous anyway, but… is this what it’s like to be the centre of gossip instead of just talking about it? Because I’m not sure I like it, Betty.”

“Oh,” says Betty. “Kevin, I didn’t mean-”

“No, Betty, I get it.” Kevin sighs. “I don’t like it either. I don’t like that my dad’s been involved in any of this stuff, and that the Lodges were threatening to use it against him and Josie’s mom-”

“They were?” gasps Betty. “Kevin, that’s awful!”

“Oh, yeah, Josie said Veronica totally warned them about it, and that’s why Mrs McCoy decided to resign. God, Betty, you weren’t even asking me and I told you! I am terrible at this!”

“Kev,” says Betty. “I _am_ sorry; but, like, maybe it’s good for you to vent? I know what’s going on is less dramatic than the whole Southside-Northside war, but I’m glad you’re talking to me about it, and I absolutely promise not to pass any of this on unless it’s life and death.”

Kevin nods.

“It is good. I’ve missed this, Betty. And thank you for your promise, though… Mr Lodge has been pretty bad to my dad. If you can’t keep him out of it… I’d understand. More of us on the Northside sympathise with you than it might seem.”

He gives Betty a conspiratorial look, and she can’t stop herself hugging him.

What he said about Veronica gives Betty hope that her friend might still be able to disentangle herself from her family, if Veronica can just maintain her own path long enough. 

She really hopes so.

Archie’s pretty disappointed by Jughead’s refusal to use the Pop’s angle in his story.

“Why is this the thing that stops you?” he demands, fiddling with his backpack. “You’ve pushed everything else.”

“I have tried everything,” says Jughead. “I’ve talked to literally everyone, and they’re all still keeping shtum. The ex-Mayor, the Sheriff, they’re all keeping their mouths shut. And I respect Pop Tate more than all of them.”

“Have you tried talking to Josie?”

“I do _not_ know Josie well enough, and she’s not an elected official, so I wouldn’t feel right trying to get answers out of her. I didn’t even feel good about asking Pop Tate, Arch.”

He still doesn’t know what to make of the Mayor. She’d always been sympathetic, but had her hands tied. Now that she’s a private citizen again, he feels even less sure of asking her about this, especially given the circumstances of her resignation. Her affair with Sheriff Keller wouldn’t be anyone’s business, if they weren’t both government staff. It’s a conflict of interest, but can he blame people for falling in love in this awful town? He’s not sure.

He wonders how much of her resignation was a final defiance of the Lodges. He hopes so; he wants to believe that his respect of Mrs McCoy wasn’t misplaced.

His father drops over again later.

“How’s it going, boy?” he says nervously. “Alice and Betty around?”

“They’re shopping with _Polly,”_ replies Jughead, emphasising the name to let FP know that he hasn’t forgotten anything. “What’s up, Dad?”

“Nothing, nothing, just thought I’d drop by and see how you’re doing.”

“Dad,” says Jughead, turning away from his unwritten article. “If you’ve come by to see how I’m doing for your old pal Hiram, I think you should stay away.”

“You think I’m still working for that piece of crap?”

“Well, yeah, Dad, every time I try anything, he’s one step ahead of me. The game is rigged, and he’s got everyone too scared to talk to me. So yeah, Dad, I don’t think you have the best track record when it comes to telling me the truth about him.”

“Interesting,” says FP, and he sits on the sofa heavily. “You haven’t asked one person to go on the record yet.”

“Who?” says Jughead tiredly. He’s made exhaustive sweeps of everyone in the town that he can think of, and he’s only pissing people off.

“Me,” says FP. “You know I trashed the drive in for Hiram, all through last summer.”

“Oh, yeah,” replies Jughead. “I could hardly miss it, since I was _living_ there.”

“Well,” says FP. “I’d be willing to go on record. Let everyone know that I did that.”

Jughead stares at him.

“But you’d go back to jail,” he says eventually, unable to believe that his father has suggested something so altruistic.

“Yeah,” says FP. “Got a feeling I’m on borrowed time, anyway. I got suckered into doing Penny’s dirty work, and I know she’ll find her way back sooner or later. I’ve already given in to Hiram Lodge more than once. I’ve done bad enough since to make sure that my own family, my son, still won’t live with me. I’m a demon to the Northsiders, and people like you and your friends don’t think much of me on the Southside either. You know Toni Topaz keeps questioning me at Serpent meetings? And she’s right to. I’ve done terrible things, Jughead, and I’ve gotten away with them. This way, maybe I can make up for some of that.”

The words _I don’t want you to go to jail, Dad_ , are on the tip of Jughead’s tongue, but he can’t seem to make himself say them. It would be hypocritical, anyway; but Jughead’s only just getting used to seeing his dad like this. He’s sober and making an effort to reconnect, doing what he thinks is right for people other than himself. Jughead missed his dad before, and he might miss him more now.

But there’s everyone else to consider. And his dad, however hard he’s trying, should already be in jail in the first place. He’s only there because Penny Peabody got him out, and Jughead wonders if the long reach of Hiram Lodge controls her too.

“Dad,” he starts hesitantly, and he’s interrupted by his phone.

“Hello?” he says, desperately grateful for the distraction.

“ _Jughead Jones,”_ says a half-familiar voice. _“I have information about Hiram Lodge’s plans. Riverdale Bus Terminal, twenty minutes_.”

It’s Veronica’s old driver, Smithers. He’s privy to information that Jughead could never have suspected, and suggests that they try Shankshaw Prison, where FP was incarcerated.

He’s worried for Veronica.

Jughead doesn’t know how justified his worries are. Veronica seems to be doing perfectly well, coercing Archie into Hiram’s plans.

Betty sees that Polly’s arms are laden with bags, and wonders what Polly’s definitely-not-a-cult Farm friends will make of this.

“So what’s it like living with Jughead?” asks Polly, looping a bag of shoes tighter over her arm. “Is he… sleeping in your room, still?”

Betty flushes. Last night, Jughead threatened to tie her up with his suspenders, and she came so hard she couldn’t see.

“Don’t make the same mistakes I did,” warns Polly, apparently able to read Betty’s recent sexual exploits into her expressions. “I loved Jason, but… seventeen and pregnant is not good, Betty. Jason would have stood by me. I know he would. But it’s not a great idea for the future. The twins bring me so much joy, but I think about what our lives might be like without them every day.”

They step into the Cooper house, to see Jughead and Alice with the twins. Jughead is cuddling Juniper, holding her safely and securely, looking into her sweet little face like he’d never let anything hurt her.

Betty’s grateful that she’s able to choose her birth control. She really is. She knows she’s many years away from wanting to have children of her own, if she ever does.

But there’s a new bit of her that warms with the knowledge that, if she did get pregnant, Jughead would be with her every step of the way. She knows he’d be the best father to their unlikely baby, with the way he looks after her and their friends, and the way he’s already looking after Dagwood and Juniper.

One day, she thinks, ridiculously. One day we could have children. We’d really love them.

FP visits Shankshaw Prison to meet someone known only as ‘War Baby’. Jughead dreads to think about what that means, and about how his own nickname fits in with a Serpent tradition. Did his father condemn him at a young age to follow in a line of self-destructive Forsythe Pendletons? Is that kind of nominative determinism real? Will Juniper and Dagwood Cooper (Blossom?) become cultists? Is Sweet Pea going to be softer than Fangs, or can they defy these paths set out for them? 

Is Hiram’s true plan an act of war against the Southside? Is that the war that War Baby’s revelation promises?

Did they start a war the day Toni Topaz took up a protest against Hiram Lodge? Is it already too late for him, Betty, everyone he loves to escape all of it?

Jughead cuddles Juniper Cooper closer, sees this sweet baby where his beloved’s features mix with the Blossoms’, and hopes it isn’t too late to stop all of this.

Polly announces abruptly that she’s moving to San Francisco, and Jughead has the privilege of seeing Alice Cooper’s heart break again. It’s a privilege he could have done without, releasing his precious cargo into Juniper’s mother’s hands, and hovering anxiously in the background as the little twins are loaded into a car. Betty and Alice watch Polly and her children drive away again, maybe for good. These two women have done so much for him, and he can do nothing about this in return.

Betty holds Alice for the rest of the evening, and he clumsily cooks dinner for them all, pasta with jar sauce. It’s awful and too salty; but Alice smiles at him fondly through her tears as she leans on Betty, and Betty clutches at his hand like a lifeline.

“I didn’t get to say goodbye to Jellybean, when Gladys took her,” he blurts, and winces. He doesn’t mean to belittle the destruction of their family with the implosion of his own.

“What did you do?” asks Alice, and her neatly manicured hand presses against his. Her sudden softness comforts him, and he wonders how he has come to like Alice Cooper so very much.

“I don’t know,” he admits. “It still hurts. But I call them; and sometimes, I like to think I’ll be able to see them soon.”

It isn’t a real comfort to any of them, but he thinks it soothes both Cooper women, oddly, to see someone so much further along the path of separation who still has hope.

Maybe hope is foolish. Maybe for their families, and for all of the people whose families are threatened by Hiram Lodge, though, hope is the only thing they have to keep them going.

Betty reads Jughead’s article, formatted and prepared for release in the Blue and Gold. _Southside High, a for-profit prison,_ she sees _. SoDale, housing for the employees_.

“Jughead,” she says forcefully. “This is amazing. This is the best thing you’ve ever written. It needs to be published, like, yesterday.”

Wetherbee disagrees, like the bootlicker he’s become.

“A malicious take-down of a fellow student’s parent?” says Jughead incredulously, as they leave the principal’s office. “No offense, but I don’t care about Veronica.”

“Jug!”

Surely he doesn’t dislike her nominal best friend that much.

“You know what I mean,” clarifies Jughead. “I wouldn’t be happy to see her embarrassed, necessarily, but this is so far beyond high school drama. This is about lives and the whole heart of the Southside! Have you seen those places where people welcome ICE centres, because they bring employment to the local area? Because that’s a thing, Betty, that’s a real thing!”

Betty thinks of children in cages, and her blood freezes.

Fred refuses to run for Mayor, after hearing about Hiram’s now-public plans for the Southside. Instead, it is Hermione Lodge who stands at the podium, Veronica sparkling beside her.

“After so much adversity,” says Hermione, “aren’t we all ready for a taste of prosperity?”

She looks elegant and competent, promising to make Riverdale better. It’s well put together, and Jughead thinks that in this town, the real snake-oil merchants are wealthy people like this, not the Serpents.

He can see the others in the crowd. Sweet Pea and Fangs look angry; Toni, her hand in Cheryl’s (and when did they grow so close? He thinks it’s oddly touching, for them to find each other, despite so much between them), looks resigned. He can identify with that, and holds his own girlfriend closer.

He and Betty go home. It isn’t worth watching what happens next. They spend the evening with Alice watching old movies, trying not to wonder what will come next for Riverdale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> man I don't miss chic
> 
> like he was slightly pointless
> 
> but hiram's plan is surprisingly... grounded in reality? don't get me wrong, he's a boring villain, but the whole private prison thing is apparently a thing in the US? damn. the uk government are trying to privatise bits, and our abysmal penal system is even worse, how can you just straight up start from a for-profit prison?????!!!!!!!! that shit is going to kill people !!!!! and you have daily proof from detention centres!!!! riverdale what the fuuuccccckkkkkkkkkkkkk!!!!!! US what the fffuuuuuuuuuccccccccccckkkkkkkkkk !!!!!!!!!!!!!!
> 
> please read about it it's insane, immoral and disastrous and i'd never heard of it until researching this episode
> 
> how is that not fucking illegal
> 
> also I finished my au and I really need some kind of prompt for a new story but I have no tumblr
> 
> don't want to steal ideas, except maybe the tying betty up with jughead's suspenders thing which I know I've seen in a fair few fics and goddammit i'm HERE FOR THAT
> 
> but help me I need an idea


	17. Primary Colours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bridges are burned, while others are built.

Jughead wakes up slowly, tries to stretch the pleasure of his dream away, and realises that he can’t, because Betty has her hands on his hips, holding him tightly as she takes him in her mouth.

 _Oh, yes_ , he thinks, tangling his hands into her messy bun with a whimper. They’d talked about this, wondered how good it might feel to wake each other up with their mouths, and giggled over the potential surprise. He’d be disappointed that she summoned up the courage first, except for the searing, delicious heat of her mouth around him.

She pulls off him with a pop.

“I woke up, and you were poking me in the hip,” she whispers gleefully. “You like it?”

“Yes,” gasps Jughead, trying not to thrust into her mouth (although he thinks she might not mind), “yes, Betty, you’re so good for me, do it, do it…”

She releases his hips to take him in one hand, while the other disappears into her sleep shorts. A moan reverberates through her, and he can feel it in her throat. He thrusts suddenly, and she gags, and then sucks harder, the hand between her own legs speeding up.

“Come up here,” he orders. She lifts her head, and pouts.

“Up,” he says more forcefully, and she crawls up his body reluctantly. His hands trace up her sides, pulling her pyjama top up so he can grope her breasts.

“You wanted to surprise me, bad girl?” he hisses, and kisses the taste of himself from her lips. It’s messy; he’s leaking on to her hip again, and he can feel how wet she is.

“I’m sorry,” says Betty, and her eyes are bright with delight. “Don’t you want to punish me?”

He kneels up.

“I want to watch you,” he says, straddling her hips. “That can be your punishment, to make it up to me.”

He crawls back and yanks her shorts off, before spreading her legs and kneeling between then. Betty’s flushed pink all over, her top shoved up to her delicate collarbones and her hands reaching for him.

“No, no,” he says, wrapping his hand around his cock. “Touch yourself. I’m going to watch.”

They’re almost late for school. It’s so worth it.

Betty’s good mood from her wake-up call disappears the moment that Archie and Veronica try to persuade them that the new Southside Prison is an excellent idea.

“Did you know about Southside High closing? Or the prison?” demands Jughead, fixing them both with a look.

“I’m sure V didn’t, did you?” asks Betty, fervently hoping that she’s right, remembering Veronica’s efforts earlier in the week to protect the McCoys, thinking that surely, surely, Veronica couldn’t have fallen that far.

“She didn’t know, Jughead, so… back off,” interjects Archie, and Betty really hopes that Jughead’s paranoia has infected her, and that she’s putting undue importance on Veronica’s failure to answer.

“Fine,” says Jughead snappishly. “I need to conserve my energy, anyway. I’m going on a hunger strike, to protest Southside High closing, and to get it reopened.”

Archie snorts.

“What?” Jughead’s eyebrows are really drawn now, and Betty can feel that it’s about to become ugly.

“Nothing, bro, it’s just like… you’re always eating, you know? Good luck with that,” says Archie dismissively. Jughead rolls his eyes, and Betty bristles. Does Archie not even realise that most ofJughead’s perpetual hunger comes from years of not having enough to eat? Of near-starvation when he was homeless.

“Hey,” she says. “It’s Jughead’s prerogative to protest peacefully, so we’re gonna support that, aren’t we?”

Veronica nods patronisingly, and looks up to see Ethel, who’s just appeared at their table.

She gets a milkshake to the face.

Betty follows her friend to the bathroom, trying not to make eye-contact with Jughead, who’s concealing a smirk, or Kevin, who’s trying not to giggle with Josie.

It’s not funny.

Okay, it slightly is. She’s a terrible friend.

Veronica is surprisingly mellow about the whole thing, saying that Ethel is well-within her rights to be angry.

“Your sense of perspective is admirable, V,” says Betty, watching her friend squeeze pink gloop from her hair. “I’d be trying to rip Ethel’s head off.”

“No,” says Veronica, sighing. “She’s entitled to be angry for the past. I just have to make it up to her now. It’s time to take deep breaths, and turn the other cheek.”

Reggie Mantle, looming over Veronica outside the loos, gets no such lenience.

“What are the odds that your father’s the first inmate in his new prison?” he asks, smirking.

Veronica drops him with a single punch to the face. While Betty has to hide her mild agreement with Reggie, she still delights in her tiny friend taking the big football player out like that. To Reggie’s credit, he looks impressed rather than humiliated or angry.

Veronica stalks off, anger written in every line of her body.

The next day, Veronica announces her own candidacy for president of the student body.

Jughead is itchy with hunger. It’s no stranger to him, this gnawing ache at his guts. In fact, it’s an old friend, after years of Gladys and FP failing to keep food on the table, of giving up his own portion of tinned soup and grilled cheese to make sure that Jellybean was well-fed. 

He made the rare decision to sleep on his own last night, concerned that his stomach would keep Betty awake with its gurgling. She took it with good grace, watching him go down the hall with wide, nervous eyes. His own nerves kept him awake, gazing out of the Coopers’ (is that even accurate now? Is the house still Hal Cooper’s?) window, remembering that strange sense of being watched. There was nothing last night, as his hunger kept him awake and away from Betty, but that relentless bit of him won’t rest, won’t let him assume that Penny or Tall Boy, or Hiram Lodge, or someone worse isn’t waiting out there in the darkness.

Today, he’s sleep-deprived, headachey and moody, clinging to Betty embarrassingly. When Archie tried to clap a friendly hand on his shoulder, he almost snapped at him, only just remembering that that invasive touch wasn’t meant as an attack.

“Veronica Lodge is not a victim,” announces Veronica defiantly. “Nor will she ever allow herself to be one.”

 _Oh,_ scoffs Jughead internally _,_ sharing a look with Betty, with Toni, with Sweet Pea and Fangs _. Veronica, how could you be a victim? Those years of assumed wealth and power, all that money and influence and privilege and an in-built sense of entitlement. You self-satisified thing, look at Cheryl, look at how she’s tried to become aware of her own inherent wealth and privilege, her rejection of her family and its legacy. And as pretentious as I am, for God’s sake drop the third person._

“Nice,” he spits. “So, you’re just doing your parents’ bidding? Running to take over here, the way they’ve taken over everywhere else in this goddamned town?”

Okay, so there are certain things he admits he can’t understand. He’s a man, and he’s white, and suffers from none of the marginalisation that Veronica might encounter as a woman of colour. He knows he should bear that in mind.

But he’s not helping his father to build a prison on the bones of a high school in a deprived area. He’s actively rejecting his father. Maybe it is easier for him, as a white man, to say no; but he struggles to see how Veronica, who he’s previously respected, can go along with all of this.

He remembers how Betty loves her, how Archie loves her, how Veronica’s tried to do the right thing before. Damn it, how can they be so wrong about her?

“Actually, Jughead,” says Veronica dryly, “my parents would rather I avoided the spotlight. But me? I have other plans. I was born for elected office.”

“V,” says Betty, cautiously enthusiastic, “You’ve got our vote.”

Jughead listens, as Betty is swept up into being Veronica’s running mate. Maybe Betty can be a tempering influence on Veronica, although it’s yet more on her plate. He knows it’s worked on him before now, though, for the better of both of them.

Fuck, he’s hungry. He drinks his water, and promises himself he won’t take it out on any of his friends.

Betty watches Toni try out for the Vixens, sees the way that Cheryl watches her. She doesn’t want to make assumptions about anything, but… 

Cheryl had something resembling a crush on Veronica, earlier in the year. Betty’s almost sure of it, had wondered if maybe it would be good for both of them. She saw it crash and burn in the face of Veronica’s relationship with Archie, and felt bad for Cheryl. Cheryl has been so lonely, since the loss of Jason, and Betty wants her to find someone. The joy she sometimes feels, when she thinks of the way she feels about finding Jughead – she wants that for Cheryl. Cheryl has seen more in the past few months than any of them. The sheer sweetness of a human connection like that… it won’t fix her, Betty doesn’t feel ‘fixed’ by Jughead, she doesn’t feel like she was somehow incomplete before. That would be awful, to feel like she was somehow less without a partner.

Still.

Toni makes the Vixens, and Cheryl compliments her more than any other girl than Betty’s ever seen, her own disastrous, baiting audition aside (and what the hell was that? Performative kissing between girls, purely for attention rather than substance? She’s still distressed by the decision made there).

“In honour of Toni joining our squad, I think we should celebrate with a slumber party at Thistlehouse,” says Cheryl, to the inner circle Vixens, and somehow, that includes Betty. It doesn’t escape her that Cheryl, while softened, is still a stern taskmaster when it comes to the Vixens, and still extremely selective with those who are close to her. These days, however, it isn’t people like Ginger and Tina, who’ll follow Cheryl without ever questioning her; it’s Josie, who doesn’t give a damn; Veronica, who can give Cheryl a run for her money as the grandest heiress in town; and Toni, who has none of the advantages of the others, but who could probably run Riverdale on her own, if she really wanted to.

And somehow, implausibly, the inner circle includes Betty Cooper.

Archie hands Jughead a flyer, his face apologetic.

“Hiram’s trying to tear down Southside High by the end of this week?!” says Jughead, disbelieving. His hunger makes him squeak embarrassingly, and he wishes Archie had asked to meet anywhere but Pop’s. Maybe it’s neutral ground, although Archie has always seemed uncomfortable with confronting the fact that Jughead lives next door to him, with Betty. The frying smells are driving him mad, and he wishes for nothing more to sink his teeth into a burger. “He’s supposed to give at least six weeks’ notice. Who’s even left for him to pay off?”

He wraps his fist around his glass of water, imagines cracking it with his hands; but then he thinks of Betty’s scarred palms, of the release she used to find from it, and he releases his hand gently. 

Across the table, Archie looks apologetic but unashamed, and Jughead knows this information came directly from Hiram Lodge.

“Jug,” says Archie earnestly. “My dad got shot, right here, because Riverdale was sliding off the deep end. And if Mr Lodge’s plan can shore things up, and help make Riverdale secure for our families, then I think that’s a good thing. Besides, why do you care so much?”

If Archie can’t see it, Jughead thinks, he doesn’t know how to explain it to him. There’s a horrible sense of familiarity, in Archie’s clinging to the promise of prosperity and security, of this new figurehead to drain Riverdale of its worst elements. People in desperate times can cling to a strongman, an authoritative figure who offers a simple solution to deeply complex problems.

Godwin’s Law became redundant in 2016, Jughead thinks, when real totalitarians took over again.

“Make Riverdale Great Again, huh, Archie?” he mutters. “You remember I was raised on the Southside, right? That my family’s from there? That Alice is from there? That neighbourhood is the only thing people there have, Archie, until your dad comes in with his bulldozers.”

“My dad’s actually against the whole thing. He’s pulling out of his deal with the Lodges over it,” says Archie resentfully, and Jughead feels guilty that he’s assumed that Fred would take the simple, easy path, just because he once made a choice to protect his son that hurt Jughead. Fred is a good father, and a good man, and if he was selfish, as much as it hurts, Jughead knows that he always tries to protect Archie, even if his decisions are sometimes terribly flawed.

“And you’re choosing Hiram’s side over his,” Jughead retorts, and he knows even Archie picked up on the implied criticism. A scowl sinks over his erstwhile friend’s face.

Is it too late for Archie? Jughead’s scared that the redhead is in too deep for anyone to pull him out. Archie might refuse the lifeline, even as it’s thrown to him.

The slumber party is both everything and nothing that Betty had longed for as a younger teen. She has a fearsome, fabulous best friend (who she can’t trust); there’s a terrifying Southside Serpent at the party (and she’s one of the people that Betty has come to respect most, in the last few weeks); Josie McCoy, the mayor’s daughter, is here (except her mother is no longer the mayor, and she’s Betty’s friend, Kevin’s almost step-sister). Even Cheryl, who Betty had been genuinely scared of, genuinely hated, is Betty’s cousin, whose happiness and well-being Betty is becoming increasingly invested in.

They try prank calls. Betty’s, of all people, ends up absurdly dirty, and she tries not to shiver when she thinks what it was like to submit to Jughead’s instructions a couple of nights ago, to let go completely, to indulge in him taking complete responsibility for their pleasure.

She doesn’t mention that.

Sooner rather than later, though, the slumber party takes a turn for the serious that no part of Betty had ever imagined.

“Inner circle, Cousin Betty,” says Cheryl, and it’s her real voice, the serious tone she takes when she isn’t just showing her talent at histrionics. “I didn’t just bring you to Thistlehouse for a girlish slumber party. The truth is, I’m terrified to be alone here.”

It all spills out: Cheryl’s fears, both for herself, and for her grandmother. She’s terrified of her newfound Uncle Claudius, but even worse, of Penelope, and the mischief that the two of them might wreak. There are poisons in the greenhouse, and Nana Rose is almost senile.

“Are we playing?” asks Toni incredulously, even as Josie asks if it couldn’t just be paranoia. Cheryl shakes her head, and Betty remembers those weeks with the Black Hood, never feeling safe in her own home.

She doesn’t think Cheryl is paranoid, and when she curls up top-to-tail with Veronica and Josie, she misses the familiar comfort of Jughead’s body against hers, for the second night in a row. Toni has taken pride of place in Cheryl’s canopied bed, and Betty thinks she hears whispering between the two girls. Perhaps with Toni Topaz on her side, Cheryl will be able to fend off the worst of her family’s threats.

Betty closes her eyes, and tries to sleep.

A scant few hours later, she stands outside Thistlehouse, watching Cheryl’s Nana Blossom get loaded into an ambulance. Cheryl’s scream still reverberates through her ears.

Cheryl Blossom is not paranoid. Claudius Blossom wears his dead brother’s pyjamas.

“They pushed Nana down the stairs,” whispers Cheryl, her hands clawed around Toni’s arm. “They wanted her dead. I’ll be next.”

Jughead assembles their ragged crew in the Swords and Serpents club. As before, there are a few more independent Serpents, and a few non-Serpent Southsiders. There are fewer than before, and those left are dispirited by Hiram Lodge’s constant victories.

“This isn’t right,” says Jughead quietly, and he’s still surprised to see people like Sweet Pea listening to him. “They’ve already taken almost everything from us, and now they want to take the last things that are left. I mean, a high school? Who can justify taking away a high school from a place like the Southside?”

“We’ve got other things,” says Fangs uncertainly. “The Serpents have our home, the Wyrm.”

He seems less sure of that than he would have been when Jughead first met him.

“They’ll take that too,” says Jughead firmly, and he has no doubt of it. “And a bar can’t be the only heart of a community. We have to try something. We have to protect it the Southside.”

He sighs, remembering all those weeks ago when he’d told Archie he was a conscientious objector.

“We have to go to war.”

As they leave the school furtively, he sees Betty, uncomfortable and almost decorative on Veronica’s cupcake stand, and he texts her, knowing she’ll understand. Betty is a people pleaser, still, and he wouldn’t ask her to choose between him and her friend – yet. Not until he’s sure Veronica and Archie are a lost cause. 

Sweet Pea is texting Toni already, asking if she’s willing to come with them. Cheryl, understandably, is too busy at the hospital with her grandmother, but she promises to come when she can.

 _Don’t worry,_ texts Jughead _. We all understand._

Cheryl texts back a thumbs-up. Jughead wonders when he became friends with Cheryl Blossom, and heaves his bike-chain off his bike.

Archie arrives a few hours later, no doubt at the behest of Hiram. It is a small crew of kids chained to the former high school, but Jughead’s proud that they all chose to be there. He’s proud to be one of them. Toni is there, Sweet Pea, Fangs; but there’s also a kid called Dan, who’s dad’s one of the few decent cops on the Southside; Jen, who’s mom runs a convenience store, who used to baby-sit Jellybean; there are others he doesn’t even know.

Even a few of them means something.

“Hiram’s going to tear this place down in two days,” warns Archie.

“He won’t,” says Toni, squaring up to him. “Unless he wants the blood of all of these Southsiders on his hands.”

Well, Lodge might be fine with blood; but not publically.

Betty wraps her hands around Jughead’s frozen ones. He told her last night; he called Alice, too, and while Alice was concerned by his decision, Betty’s mother has decided to respect Jughead’s choice.

“It’s so cold, Jug,” Betty says, handing him a thermos of the hot water he’d requested. “I don’t know how you guys are going to keep it up. I should be here with you-”

“No,” says Jughead, forthrightly but fondly. “If it’s okay with you… Me and the others talked, and we think it would be good if you kept an eye on Archie and Veronica. They’re our friends, but-”

“But we need to see what they’re up to,” concludes Betty, and she’s embarrassingly grateful that she doesn’t have to stay out here; although she wants to be with them, standing their ground. “Aren’t you worried you’ll be arrested? For protesting without a permit?”

“Oh, a bunch of teens peacefully trying to save their high school?” says Toni, flashing Betty a wry grin.

“Arresting us for that? For using our civil rights?” adds Fangs, and his toothy smile suddenly tells her how he got his nickname.

“It would go viral,” adds Jughead, “and honestly, we would welcome the publicity, right guys?”

There’s a ragged cheer from the protestors, and Betty sees the simple efficiency of Jughead’s plan. They already have attention from the protest and the articles in the Blue and Gold, and the Register. A police intervention at this stage will look like nothing more than heavy-handed repression from the authorities.

There are a few older Serpents hanging around, with some other, more nervous looking adults. Betty spots the uncannily familiar shape of FP Jones, maintaining a distance from his son.

“What about them?” she whispers, not wanting to offend Toni or the other Serpents.

“Oh,” says Jughead. “I’m a bit worried, that they’re here to do Hiram’s dirty work again, but, really Betty,” he favours her with a nervous half-smile, “a little bit of me hopes that they’re here to support us.”

Betty kisses him.

“I don’t want to go,” she says, and she means it.

“But you have student council obligations,” Jughead says, understanding.

“Yeah, Betty,” says Sweet Pea, “you’re like, I dunno, our inside man or something.”

The others laugh, but it’s not mocking, the way it would once have been.

“Go gettem, Tracy Flick,” says Jughead.

“When Southside High closed,” says Betty, and she’s trembling with rage, “you acted like you didn’t know.”

Veronica’s hands are twisting with nervousness, and for once, she looks truly apologetic. It’s a far contrast from her calm in the same bathroom yesterday morning. Betty can’t believe she’d felt like Ethel did something unfair, when it was nothing if not deserved.

“When my parents asked me if I could help them, I didn’t feel like I could say no!”

“Of course you could’ve!” says Betty. “You could’ve told us the truth! Instead, you just played us like fools!”

“No!” protests Veronica. “I was just trying to keep them honest! That’s why I started working with them, Betty, you have to believe me!” 

She darts closer, and Betty pulls back out of her grip.

“I see it’s going well!” she spits. “Veronica, even if I did… I can’t be your running mate anymore, you know that, right?”

It took longer than she expected, but things have finally come to a head.

“I can’t trust you, V,” she says, and leaves the room. It feels awful, and Veronica is almost crying; but Betty remembers the Southsiders sheltering by the old high school, and knows that she’s doing the right thing.

She gets home to find Alice sitting at the dining room table, looking stern.

“Mom,” she says, “if this is about Jughead, and Southside High-”

“It’s very much about Jughead,” says Alice, and beckons Betty over. Betty takes a seat, and feels her heart sinking. “Betty, I want you to tell me, seriously, are you and Jughead having sex?”

Betty flushes. She should have known it would come up, sooner or later. Maybe they’ve gotten sloppy, noisy in their joy together.

“Yeah,” she says, hesitantly. “Yeah, Mom, we are.”

Alice sighs.

“And are you being safe?” she asks. “I have to ask.” Betty nods.

“I’m on the pill,” she says. “I never miss it. And neither of us – uh, Mom…”

“Well, that’s good,” interrupts Alice, and she meets Betty’s eyes frankly. “Because when I was your age, I wasn’t always. Which is why… well. And I’m well acquainted with how… alluring… the Jones men can be.” 

That’s too much for Betty in one sentence, and she must grimace, because Alice laughs at her disgusted expression, and takes Betty’s hand gently.

“I need you to be sensible,” she says softly. “I knew you and Jughead were close, and, well, I’ve had my suspicions for a while. It’s your choice, honey, and I want to respect that. Just… please. For me, and for Polly, and most of all for both of you.”

It’s a far cry from Betty’s sex talk a few years earlier, where Alice had supplemented the school’s dreadful sex-ed with some cold facts, barked at a desperately uncomfortable Betty (and supplemented by a very amused Polly, who teased her little sister horribly). Betty feels safe, and supported, and she’s so grateful for her improved relationship with her mother.

Burger wrappers litter the ground around Jughead, and while he’s disappointed that he’s broken his hunger strike, his head feels clear for the first time in days. The others have gone home overnight to get warm, but Jughead’s seen enough footage of illicit destructions to spike his paranoia.

His only companion is FP, waiting patiently a few feet away.

“I got a call, from Hiram Lodge,” says FP cautiously. “Offering us a penthouse apartment in the So-Dale complex, work for life. I could bring your mom and your sister and you home, offer you more than the Coopers or your grandparents can give.”

“Oh yeah.” Jughead snorts. “A penthouse balcony, overlooking a prison? JB growing up in a place where our only hope is to get out, or participate in for-profit incarceration? No thanks, Dad.”

“I thought you’d say that,” says FP, and is there pride in his voice. “It’s why I hung up on his ass.”

Jughead is genuinely surprised. FP sighs, and sits beside him.

“Believe it or not,” he says, “there are other people on the Southside who believe in all of this, who think you and Topaz and the others are doing the right thing.”

“But you won’t openly support us?”

FP sighs again.

“It’s too late for a lot of us,” he says. “All we can do is try not to get in the way of your futures. You know there’s less tension between the two sides of town, since all of this started? I don’t think the leader of the Serpents getting involved is good PR for you, boy. And… I can’t ever make up for what I did to Jason Blossom. Nothing I do will change that.”

That… makes a lot of sense, actually. It still means a lot to Jughead that his dad is willing to tell him this.

Alice’s station wagon pulls up, and Betty darts out, with another Thermos and several blankets. She pauses as she sees FP, her face unreadable.

“Hi, Mr Jones,” she says eventually, and glances back to Alice, waiting in the car. “Jug, I’ve come to keep you company for a bit.”

“That seems like my queue to leave,” says FP, getting to his feet, and giving Alice a shaky nod. Betty’s lip curls again, and Jughead reminds himself to ask her what that’s all about.

She drapes the blankets round him, and then herself.

“How was your day?” he asks, as if they’re at home, not chained to a high school in the middle of the night.

“I burnt some bridges,” she says, and scowls. “I think it’s too late for Veronica, Jug. I only hope it’s not too late for Archie, too.”

The next morning, Archie proves her hope is fruitless. It hurts, when Jughead lifts the chains up and watches Archie’s implacable face as he wields the bolt cutters. He can see the other Bulldogs, pulling Toni, Fangs, Sweet Pea, quiet Jen and Dan, away from Southside High. 

He tries to walk away with his head held high. Archie shoves him in the back, makes him stumble. It’s a little cruelty that serves no purpose, even for Hiram Lodge. It felt like it was all Archie.

There are residents of both sides of Riverdale all around them, recording this on their phones. It's still going to be a PR nightmare for Hiram Lodge; but Jughead feels a horrible, personal sense of betrayal that he lacked before.

He turns, and fixes Archie with a glare. There is no hint of remorse left on Archie’s stupid face.

“Do you think it even made a difference?” he asks. Betty’s hands are warm and firm on his aching shoulders, and he sways with her touch, enjoying the non-sexual intimacy. A few months ago, he’d have shied away from anyone attempting to touch him; but Betty’s offer of a massage made him feel like a human, instead of an icicle.

“Definitely,” says Betty, and her voice is firm. “Every movement has to gain momentum. It started with Toni’s article, and this was a good idea. It’s not your fault both of our best friends have embraced the dark side.”

“Good,” he mutters, and feels her hands slide round his neck in a backwards hug. “We lost Southside High; I don’t want to lose Riverdale High too. And you’ve not heard more unlikely words come from my mouth, but…” He turns to face her, slightly nervous that she’ll tell him it’s a terrible idea. “I want to run for student body president. And I want you to be my co-president. And I know that you and Veronica-”

“Okay,” interrupts Betty.

“Really? Just like that?”

“Just like that,” says Betty, and she cups his cheek. “There is no me and Veronica.”

He kisses her, wondering how he ever got so lucky, to fall in love with this brilliant girl, and have her love him back.

“We should go upstairs,” he whispers against her lips. “I need to pretend to be in my own room for at least twenty minutes.”

“Oh,” says Betty, blushing. “About that. I, uh, don’t think we actually need to pretend any more. My mom worked it out, and… Well. I don’t think she approves, but she doesn’t, uh, object.”

Jughead stares at her, and then kisses her furiously.

 _We can have this,_ he thinks. _I can fall asleep beside you, wake up with you in my arms, with no fear of separation_.

Betty’s mouth is hot against his, and as he pushes her further into the couch cushions, she starts to whimper, squirming as he slides his hands up her top.

Her phone buzzes.

“Goddammit!” says Betty frustratedly, and he decides to pay attention to her neck instead, as she flails for her phone. It's been too many nights without her, and he's feeling good. “Hello?”

 _“Betty,”_ says a nervous voice. _“It’s Toni. Have you seen Cheryl?”_

“No,” replies Betty, “not since poor Nana Rose.”

Jughead remembers that Cheryl had said she might join the occupation, but had said nothing since. He'd just assumed she was at the hospital with her grandmother.

 _“No-one has.”_ Toni sounds seriously worried. _“I’m scared that her mother and uncle have done something terrible.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> these episodes are so complicated!!! like, I haven't even done veronica or archie or even Cheryl's plots in any great detail, but they're just so... long? gosh, the amount of plot they squeezed in there is terrible. no wonder the show sucks, and this was an episode I quite liked!!!!!
> 
> also why was toni not with the protesters? didn't she start the pickens day protest? here we see the beginnings of 'toni only revolves around cheryl' as a plotline, and I do not like it. she should have been at the protest with the others because it was part of her character, like, three episodes earlier. instead she's like 'nah', while Sweet Pea and Fangs are up for it? sure thing guys, really great there.


	18. The Noose Tightens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cheryl Blossom has gone missing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heads up! non-explicit conversion therapy mentioned in this chapter

Cheryl Blossom has not been seen since the night she left Thistlehouse with her grandmother in an ambulance.

Jughead and Betty’s first port of call was the hospital, to check with Dr Masters, who assured them that she’d been staying there for a few days, but left perfectly safely with her mother. Nana Rose’s condition has improved enough to return home, and he seemed puzzled by their inquiries, having thought little of it at the time.

It’s hard to keep up with their new campaign for student body president, and look for Cheryl at the same time; but Betty reasons that if they lose the election, they can keep fighting. There’s time to catch up. If Claudius and Penelope really have hurt Cheryl… that’s something they can’t claw back.

It feels strange to Betty, sitting on her stool in the auditorium and hearing Jughead answer questions with increasing confidence. She’s dedicated to this, and the campaign, but neither of them can quite concentrate when they know that Cheryl, who’s become one of their closest allies, might be in danger. Or worse.

Sweet Pea and Fangs, oddly, are great at feeding questions about the Southside from the audience. Betty thinks some of it comes from Sweet Pea’s genuine rage about the treatment of Southsiders, as he fixes his eyes on Reggie, who’s taking none of this seriously, and then Veronica and Archie, who patronise and glimmer with the comparative wealth of their campaign strategy.

It’s Midge’s question that makes the most difference, asking Veronica and Archie if they’ll have problems because their parents don’t agree on the So-Dale project. Veronica tries to pass it off with her customary elegance, but the audience shifts, and begins to mutter. Betty can’t be the only whose mind immediately leaps to what a decent man Fred is, for the most part, and why a decent man would be opposing this project, if it really is such a great plan.

Alice meets them in the corridor afterwards.

“You did really well, both of you,” she says. “I’m very proud. I think you really held your own in there.”

“Thank you for coming to support us, Mrs Cooper,” says Jughead. His posture is slumped, after the way he’d held his spine rigidly throughout the debate. He looks exhausted. “I’m glad one of us has a parent who can be here.”

That’s not quite fair. Betty knows FP promised to stay away, as the accomplice in Jason Blossom’s murder was hardly a great endorsement for their campaign.

And then she remembers that Jason’s twin is still missing. Jughead sees the expression on her face, reads it correctly, and squeezes her fingers.

“We’ll find her,” he says softly.

Down the hall, Betty spies Veronica and Archie, and both their sets of parents, exchanging barely-cordial words. She shakes her head, and decides that she really, really can’t be bothered with their shit right now. There’s more important stuff to worry about.

They hold a meeting in the Swords and Serpents. Sweet Pea still looks pissed off, not that that’s unusual.

“Isn’t this kind of a step back?” he asks. “Running for student body president against the Lodges, and Mantle and McCoy? I thought we were meant to be going to war with the Lodges, not meeting them on their own turf.”

“It’s the only way to affect change,” Jughead protests, although it sounds weak to his own ears. “If we get those votes, we get a seat on the school board. We’d be inside. They can’t silence us once we’re there-”

Fangs shakes his head too. Normally, Jughead has observed that Fangs is the more quiet of the three lead junior Serpents, but he knows how to stand his ground when he’s required.

“The game is rigged against us, Jones,” Fangs states. “Trying to go through normal channels never works for people like us. Even if we won, we’d get propped up as some great concession to the Southside, and then you and Betty would sit there, being ignored on the inside rather than the outside. You think they’re gonna let you win? Both of the other teams will spend the whole time trying to smear you and discredit you.”

Jughead sighs.

“You’re right,” he says, slumping down on the desk, “but we’ve got to try. They used the other students against us, when we tried a physical protest. They bought off Hal Cooper, when Mrs Cooper started to report on corruption. We’ve got to try everything.”

“You’ll have our vote,” says Sweet Pea cynically, “but you should know that most of us think it’s hopeless.”

“Speaking of which,” Toni bursts agitatedly, “has anyone had any luck finding Cheryl? I can’t find anyone that saw her after they left the hospital!”

Everyone shakes their heads. A surprising number of Southsiders have volunteered to help look, remembering that Cheryl had dropped everything to support them unequivocally. There has been no sign of her.

“Betty,” says Toni. “We’ve got Vixens practice. Surely someone there will know something.”

Betty nods, and kisses Jughead on the cheek as she and Toni leave. He looks at her forlornly. Nothing seems to be going right for any of them.

She gets that strange sense of detachment again, as she and Toni ask her two political rivals if they’ve seen Cheryl. Josie, she doesn’t mind, and running against Veronica just to piss her off isn’t the worst motive she’s ever heard of, but Betty can’t bring herself to make eye-contact with Veronica. And yet Cheryl’s life might be in danger. Petty political squabbles over a student body presidency mean nothing by comparison.

“Her awful mother says they’ve sent her to a boarding school in Switzerland,” says Toni, “but you all heard her last week. She was scared that something would happen to her.”

“And now it has,” says Betty. “Maybe.”

“That’s easy to check,” says Veronica. “There’s only Surval Montreux.”

“And if she had, don’t you think Cheryl would have been posting selfies, like, every day?” adds Toni. “Her social media’s been dead for days!”

“That’s a sure sign of foul play,” mutters Veronica, and Josie nods. 

“Whatever you need, Toni, we’re in,” she says, “even if we have to storm Thistlehouse.”

The great storming of Thistlehouse consists of Toni, Betty, Veronica and Josie, with Jughead, Sweet Pea and Fangs as back-up. Jughead isn’t exactly comfortable with the idea of using their motorbikes, and three of them in Serpent leathers, as it might look like they’re trying to intimidate Penelope with the gang.

Of course, if she thought they were, and it actually helped, Jughead thinks Cheryl’s life is worth more than pondering the morality of the situation; but he’s seen Penelope Blossom at her iciest, and he doesn’t think intimidation is a good tactic, however inadvertent.

The girls return, furious and uncomfortable.

“That bitch,” mutters Toni.

“What happened?” asked Sweet Pea, glaring over at the house.

“I threatened to call the Sheriff,” says Josie, scowling, “and she said she’d tell us the truth!”

“So?” says Fangs.

“So, it wasn’t the truth,” replies Toni defiantly. “She said Cheryl had been showing strange, deviant behaviour, and that she’d been worried about Cheryl since… well, she said some stuff that I won’t repeat, and she shouldn’t have told us. And she said she’d sent her away to a private wellness institute abroad! What the hell does that mean?”

Jughead glances at Betty, whose head is cast down. She looks angry and guilty simultaneously, twisting her nails into her palms.

He steps forwards, and wraps her hands into his, not caring for once that they’re in front of other people.

“We need to re-group,” says Toni urgently. “We need to work out where the hell they’ve sent her. Lodge, can you look up where any of these private wellness institutions might be, and how they could have sent her out of the country? Since you know so much about these kinds of things?”

Veronica bristles, but she nods.

“I’ll help,” says Josie, “and I can ask Kevin’s dad if he’s heard anything. He’ll probably just listen to Penelope’s explanation, but I guess it’s worth raising it with him.”

“Guys,” says Toni, “just keep your ears open, still. Maybe there’s something we’ve missed.”

The boys nod. Jughead is trying not to be selfishly occupied with his own girlfriend.

When they get back to the Cooper house, Betty explains it to him in hushed whispers.

“Penelope said she was showing signs of odd behaviour since… well, since the Nick St Clair thing,” she says, trying to pull her hands out of his. Jughead doesn’t let go. “Is she right? I’ve been trying to be Cheryl’s friend. I thought we were getting closer. Have I been so wrapped up in my own stuff that I ignored the problem? God, I’m a terrible cousin, Jug!”

“Betty, no,” says Jughead, pulling her into a hug. “For one thing, I don’t think you’ve ignored her. She’s been coming to talk to you a lot, and we’ve all been spending time with her. Yeah, she’s been different since St Clair and… that awful day at Sweetwater, but you’ve been trying. And she’s been trying. If it’s true, well, I don’t know, Betty, I don’t think there’s anything you could have done.”

“You don’t think it’s true?” Betty looks up at him, her eyes glassy.

“I don’t want to assume things,” says Jughead gently, “but Mrs Blossom is not known for her kindness to her daughter, or her truthfulness. If it were me, I’d say Toni was doing the right thing, looking into this more. Even if Cheryl is in some kinda Blofeld mountaintop sanatorium, I think we should try to find her, and make sure she’s not being kept there against her will.”

“Hmm,” says Betty thoughtfully, leaning against him. “Maybe we can ski to rescue her, like in the movie.”

“Hopefully with a happy ending.”

His phone buzzes.

“It’s Fred,” he says, with some surprise. “Says can I drop over. Want to come?”

Betty scrunches up her nose.

“I have homework,” she says, “and so do you.”

“Nope,” replies Jughead triumphantly. “Done it already.”

He kisses her forehead, and lopes over to the house next door, where he used to live.

Fred, it seems, wants his help with his own campaign speech.

“…How about, something like, ‘I’m about investing in all the citizens of Riverdale, not just profiting from them?’” Jughead suggests, and it feels good to come up with it. At school, he and Betty have to play nice, play by the rules of high school politics, where you can’t rip each other apart, unlike the real world.

Fred nods appreciatively, and Jughead remembers what it feels like to have a father-figure who isn’t a _complete_ letdown.

Archie bursts in.

 _Speaking of complete letdowns_ , thinks Jughead.

“Hey, Dad, Jug,” says Archie, refusing to meet Jughead’s eyes, and Jughead feels the ghost of that push on his back again. “What’s going on?”

“Oh, Jughead’s helping me out with the- your mother calls it the announcement address? I’m not much for speechifying, but Jug is the greatest writer I know.”

Fred claps Jughead on the back, and Jughead remembers how much simpler this used to be, when Fred had never thrown him out to the Southside, and Archie hadn’t, what, joined the freaking Mafia?

“Then you need to meet more writers, Mr Andrews,” Jughead quips, trying to raise the mood; but it sinks again, as Fred thanks Archie for promising to come to the address. It only takes Jughead a single glance to know that Archie’s wearing that stupid innocent expression, where he really, really thinks he’ll do something for someone else, but inevitably end up letting them down, selfishly. _Yeah, Jug, of course we’ll go on a road-trip! Of course I’ll take Betty to the dance!_

_Of course I’d never work for a guy like Hiram Lodge._

Jughead can’t bear it any longer, and he slinks back to his own house, where he can wrap himself around Betty, and they can vent to each other about their useless friends, and worry more about poor Cheryl.

Alice is in a bad mood at dinner, bitching (understandably) about Hal and the divorce; but she apologises for being so sour with them, and he and Betty beat a swift retreat to his room, where they both manage to fall asleep almost instantly.

They’re sitting peacefully in the student lounge when Toni appears, frantic.

“I got a phone call!” she hisses. “I think… It was an old lady? Cheryl’s Nana Rose? She sounded, I don’t know, really out of it!”

“What did she say, Toni?” asks Betty. Toni’s shaken, confused.

“Cheryl’s, um, not far? She’s nearby? I don’t even know what that would mean.”

“Anything else?” prompts Jughead. Maybe that means they haven’t sent Cheryl halfway across the world. Betty hopes so, anyway.

“Something weird, like, she was with sisters? The sisters? Betty, I don’t know if your crazy family has any more aunts or something, but-”

“The Sisters!” says Betty, and she exchanges a look with Jughead, remembering their trip there to find Polly, the day he kissed her. “The Sisters of Quiet Mercy is a convent, just outside Riverdale, but, I mean, it’s a convent? They sent my sister there to hide her pregnancy.”

“But is it somewhere they’d send Cheryl?” asks Jughead.

Veronica approaches, looking disgusted.

“Mrs Blossom implied that she sent Cheryl there because she was, uh, attracted to girls,” she says, uncomfortable. “Is it possible that the Sisters of Quiet Mercy has a conversion therapy element?”

Betty gulps. Could she and Jughead have seen that, on their mercifully brief trip there? She doesn’t think so, but how could she tell?

It takes them only a brief moment to confer with Kevin, who says that yes, horrifically, it does, and he’s met rare escapees from there, when they’ve made their way to Riverdale. People have been trying to shut it down for years, with little success. Places like that are hard to stop, once they’ve gained a foothold, and worked out how to keep themselves secret.

Betty can’t believe that her sister was stuck in a place like that for months – that none of them even knew it was there, hidden on the outskirts of Riverdale.

“I can take you there,” says Kevin. “After dark.”

“Jughead,” says Betty. “Bring a camera. One with a good flash.”

The tunnel mouth gapes in front of them as they rush up. Betty’s covered her bright head of hair with a black hat, wearing her most comfy running shoes, and all black gear. Jughead’s the same, head to foot dark colours, along with Toni, although Veronica’s choice of an open sweetheart neckline seems a little odd - not to mention the fact that both girls have elected to wear seriously high heels.

It doesn’t help them much on the ladder.

Jughead is cautiously taking pictures of almost everything; Kevin is waiting outside, ready to call Sheriff Keller if they don’t reappear. Josie is holding the fort at home with her mother, in case they need legal help.

Sweet Pea and Fangs are hovering in the background, bikes ready to go. They’re unhappy not to be included; but as few of them should go in as possible.

“When we get to the main building, what happens?” asks Veronica.

“We search every damn room until we find her,” spits Toni. She looks fearsome.

They split up, racing off down the corridors to search the rooms. Betty sees the corridor where they kept Polly, the hall where the orderlies pushed her and Jughead back, reaching uselessly for Polly. She hates to think what it must be like to be held here.

“Cheryl!”

It’s Toni’s voice. Betty runs towards it.

In the blue light of the film room, Cheryl is holding Toni like she’ll never let go. Betty stops, staring at the image of both girls in the dim blue light.

Toni draws back, cups Cheryl’s face like she’s something precious, and kisses her gently. Cheryl melts into it, tears leaking down her face, and they stay there, framed by the convent’s ridiculous films.

Veronica bursts in, pausing only for a moment to see the girls kissing.

“Guys!” she says sharply. “There are a bunch of nuns coming, we have to go!”

Jughead appears at the end of the corridor, running. He pauses for a moment to take a defiant picture of his pursuers, blinding them with a flash, before all five of them dash out into the maze of corridors that make up the Sisters of Quiet Mercy.

Every exit is cut off by nuns bearing flashlights. Somehow, they find their way back to the underground corridor, despite nuns and ridiculous heels, and reach the ladder.

“Come on!” calls Kevin, and Toni virtually has to shove Cheryl’s exhausted body up the ladder.

Betty gulps fresh air as they reach the surface, and Jughead yanks her on to the bike. The other Serpents all have passengers – Kevin with Fangs, Veronica with Sweet Pea and Cheryl, of course, clinging to Toni like a lifeline. The bikes’ engines roar to life, and they’re gone, free, racing off towards home.

The nun’s flashlights appear behind them, but the distance stretches too far, and Betty exults.

“We did it!” she yells, and she feels Jughead’s laugh in his stomach.

They ensconce Cheryl safely with Toni – as if there was any way those two were going to be separated – to get some much needed sleep, safe and protected. There’s no way any of them are going to let

Cheryl anywhere near her mother after all of this. Cheryl can barely bring herself to talk, and her thanks…

“You don’t need to thank any of us,” says Jughead softly. “What was done to you was terrible.”

They leave shortly after that. Cheryl will need help, it’s certain; but there’s not much more they can do for her tonight.

“This time, Jug,” says Betty forcefully, “I’m getting Cheryl help. This is too much for one person. We kept hoping that someone would help Archie, and he’s gone completely off the rails. Cheryl already tried to kill herself this year. If I have to sit outside Ms Burble’s office to get a referral, I’ll do it.”

They’re back at the house. Alice is looking over Jughead’s blurry photos, looking sick to her stomach.

“If I’d known,” she keeps saying, “If anyone had- I sent Polly there! God, I went there! How did they keep it so quiet?”

She’s already working on an expose. Even if Kevin had tried via proper channels with his father, he hadn’t tried going to the press. Alice’s position at the Register may be shaky, but she knows exactly who to contact to kick up a stink about all of this.

Astoundingly, she’s more distracted by her own naivete than worried about the fact that her fifteen-year-old daughter and her boyfriend broke someone out of a nunnery.

Betty takes the win, and heads upstairs before Alice can remember how much danger Betty and Jughead have put themselves in.

“Can you imagine it?” Betty asks him, lying on his chest, much later. The concept of a victory fuck is pretty new to her, as they have had so few real triumphs since all of this started.

A victory fuck is pretty great, to be honest.

“Can I imagine what?” asks Jughead drowsily. His hand is still tangled in her hair, and she remembers how he pulled on it earlier. He’s much gentler now, combing his way through the tresses.

“If this,” she gestures to their general post-coital state, “being together like this, being in love physically, or even just sex for pleasure, if it scared and offended people so much that they tried to ban it, tried to force it out of us?”

“I have an odd perspective,” says Jughead philosophically. “Sex wasn’t very interesting to me before I fell in love with you. I’ve always tried not to think about other people having sex much, let alone care about it enough to try and stop people just because the love they want doesn’t fit with someone else’s preconceived notion of sexuality.”

“So you can’t imagine it.”

“No, I probably can’t,” Jughead kisses her softly. “LGBTQ people are treated so… Every time I think I can’t be surprised by hatred anymore, someone proves me wrong.”

“There are people out there who get killed for it,” says Betty. “Or for falling in love with someone who’s a different race, or a different religion. Why can’t people just let other people be together? It’s not like it affects them.”

“Capitalism.”

“You can’t just say capitalism to everything, Jug.”

“I can try.” He tickles her, and she squirms against him, trying to maintain her scowl. He laughs at her, and then sighs.

“I mean,” he says, “Sometimes, when I was younger, I got a lot of shit from the other boys for not being interested in sex. Like, was I gay? And of course that was a crime, something to make fun of. And then when I said I just wasn’t interested, then they all looked at me like I was crazy, like there was something missing, like I was incomplete for not wanting sex. You know Reggie Mantle treats me better, since you and I got together? Like I somehow count as a person, as a man, because I’m finally taking an interest in sex? I don’t understand it. I don’t understand at all.”

They’re silent for a moment.

“I would have been in love with you even if you never wanted to sleep with me,” whispers Betty. “I hope you know that. I love this, it feels great, but… I love you more.”

“I love you too,” whispers Jughead. “And tomorrow, for Cheryl, and for those other kids in there, we’ll burn those sisters to the ground.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so I didn't want to write this chapter, because I hated the conversion therapy plotline. it was cheap, glossed over, and then every single one of the characters never cared about it much again, and you know what that tells me? you don't blame the characters, you blame the writers. in short:
> 
> -kevin used the tunnel? to hook up with boys from the conversion wing? and never thought maybe that was horrifically exploitative and he should be calling the police, not getting a date?? this threw me in canon. I mean, he lets them go back into the building after he's hooked up with them???? the nightmare conversion therapy building??????????????
> 
> -Cheryl and toni pretty much never mention this again. a series later they go and live in the same building, with Cheryl not, apparently, horrifically traumatised. it took us til series 4 to acknowledge how horrific the nick st clair thing was, badly. I am not holding my breath for season 5.
> 
> -betty never found out about it, but then we saw her and jughead using it to blackmail nuns for information. a series later they apparently realised this was a real dick move and retconned that she was trying to get it shut down. it only matters when plot vaguely requires it.
> 
> -no-one else gave a fuck, in the whole town
> 
> so this tells me that it was for cheap drama, not character development, or a portrayal (other than the horrific scenes with Cheryl, which was basically more Cheryl torture porn) of how truly awful these places can be. I am not keen on this canon. it was tasteless and exploitative.
> 
> I'll cheerfully admit that the Cheryl/toni romance was sweet here; I just hate everything else about the plotline
> 
> and fuck off did they outrun the nuns in those shoes


	19. A Night to Remember

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Riverdale High puts on its annual musical! audiences everywhere trembled in horror!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's one acceptable bit of the musical episodes and it's seventeen. all other musical scenes should have been cut. in every episode, in fact.

The great auteur of Riverdale High summons the humble Jughead Jones to a conference, prior to the full production of the magnum opus.

Or, in other words, Kevin Keller asks Jughead to meet him before school.

Now, ordinarily, Jughead would resent this. Over the months he’s lived at the Cooper house, he’s come to value waking up with Betty asleep in his arms. He actually thought about this, a little before he considered that he might like to sleep with Betty in the less literal sense; the intimacy of their shared hours of dreaming is one of his most treasured experiences. There are few mornings, now, when he doesn’t wake up either alongside Betty, or to the sense of her already awake; in his worst nightmares, where she’s no longer with him, he knows he’ll still treasure these moments.

But Kevin Keller is Betty’s best friend, and Jughead wants to understand her friends nearly as much as he wants her friends to accept him as her partner in… well, everything. On top of that, he actually likes Kevin; they’d had more than a few times, over the years, when they shared an eye-roll over the absurdity of performative heterosexuality among the other boys in the year. Where Reggie and Chuck would rather go home with a black eye than tolerate the suggestion that they weren’t the manliest of men, Kevin and Jughead shared a silent allegiance over finding the posturing ludicrous.

He thinks Kevin’s decent, and he really hopes Kevin thinks the same.

“Kevin,” he says, “I know what you’re going to ask.”

“I’m making a documentary following the production of Carrie,” interrupts Kevin, who’s blatantly excited. “I want you to be our videographer!”

Oh.

It’s a project he think’s he’d actually be interested in, and Kevin seems genuinely enthusiastic. This isn’t even humouring him, as an adjunct to Betty; this is something Jughead really hopes he’ll be good at.

“I’m in,” he says, after barely a moment’s pause. Kevin claps him delightedly on the back, and Jughead honestly feels great. He almost wants to pat Kevin back. It’s exciting.

The camera blinks at him. This is going to be amazing.

Betty’s really excited. This is the first year that she’s been one of the leads in the musical, as much as it stings that she’s still Sue Snell, the good girl, up against Archie playing Tommy, the boy next door. That’s a narrative she thought she was done with, and it feel like typecasting. She won’t complain to Kevin, who has had a vision throughout this; but it galls her that she and Veronica are cast as their archetypes. And she resents Veronica, still, because while her erstwhile friend’s character is a cruel bully, Veronica herself has fallen prey to a more insidious and subtle strain of evil. Cheryl is… the least likely Carrie possible, and Betty has her doubts about Cheryl’s voice in some places; but at least it’s not typecasting.

“Are you sure you’re okay to be back at school already, Cher?” she’d asked a few days ago, when Cheryl appeared. Cheryl was clad head to toe in her customary crimson, defying and brilliant as she always was.

“Cousin,” said Cheryl brittly, “I am decidedly not. But the pretence that things are normal is more comforting than wallowing in thoughts about what has happened to me.”

Betty nods, thinking she understands. Later, she holds Cheryl’s hand for half an hour, as they wait to see Mrs Burble. There is a therapist in Greendale that Cheryl has announced herself cautiously willing to talk to; and if that therapist cannot help, she has other recommendations for other practitioners who may be able to try.

It’s progress; and Betty isn’t going to tell Cheryl off for trying to regain a sense of normality, as much as she is desperate to get her cousin help.

Chuck Clayton sits in front of Jughead, facing the camera frankly.

Jughead knows exactly what Chuck tried to do to Veronica. Conversely, he knows how badly it went when Betty and Veronica tried to exact revenge on Chuck, and while he tries to understand how bad Betty had it at the time, he’s… 

The whole situation is so very weird. Jughead once punched Chuck Clayton in the face for being rude about Betty, which is the single most traditionally ‘mannish’ thing he’s ever done. In the grand scheme of things, that meant nothing to him or Betty, by comparison to sitting and talking it through later at Pop’s. He spilled his insecurities to her, his profound distrust of almost everyone who tried to treat him well; she showed him her saddest, most painful part of herself.

Chuck has been dating Josie for the last few months. There has been no mention of rankings in books, of using Josie as a way of asserting dominance or power in the school. By all accounts, Chuck Clayton was now concentrating on art, on his position in the community, on his relationship, and on being a decent person.

Can someone change like that? When they’re removed from the world of competition and hierarchy, can they be different? 

Jughead wants to believe that, desperately, and Chuck seems sincere. The video records his every word. It might be true.

Archie says it’s weird for him and Betty to be playing boyfriend and girlfriend.

“Be careful, Arch, Big Brother’s watching,” jokes a voice from offstage. Betty looks down to see her boyfriend with a camera trained on them, his face invisible behind the footlights. It’s odd for her to see him like this; it’s like he’s reverted to the detached observer that he postured as, before she dragged him into the Blue and Gold and all of these mysteries. She knows he’s far more involved than that, but she feels isolated in the limelight alongside Archie, who was once her best friend, and who she can no longer recognise.

“I want to make this as painless as possible,” says Archie, in a rare moment of self-awareness, but Betty can’t help herself spitting vitriol about him, about Veronica, about all of the people who want to turn Riverdale into a shell of its already-flawed self.

She thinks she can feel Jughead’s invisible, proud smirk.

A falling sandbag nearly kills Cheryl, just as she sings her prima donna solo.

Of course it does.

Kevin confesses to Jughead.

“I thought it was a prank,” he says, bitterly, showing the letter, with its magazine-cut letters. Jughead pores over it, trying to compare it to the cypher and the hand-written letters he;s tried to forget, as he’s tried to forget Betty’s fear, and the hatred with which the Black Hood faced their relationship. “Why would the Black Hood demand the role of Carrie be recast? It’s so… minor, so petty!”

Was the Black Hood as petty as this? His real motivations always eluded him. Jughead remembers Betty’s disgust over his condemnation of Alice and Veronica, even as the Black Hood dismissed Nick St Clair’s genuine, horrific crimes. Maybe bland pettiness is exactly the strange serial killer’s motivation.

No. He’s dead. The strange sensation that Jughead sometimes gets of being watched is nothing but paranoia and mild post-traumatic stress disorder. It’s not real.

“As official documentarian,” says Kevin seriously, “You’re sworn to secrecy.”

“You’re not serious,” says Jughead.

“Oh, I am,” says Kevin. “And the show, as they say, must go on.”

Jughead scoffs, and he sees the camera pick the sound up.

“Kevin, doesn’t that expression normally refer to, like, costume malfunctions and prop mess-ups?” he asks. “Not the potential reappearance of a serial killer. Please, tell your dad.”

Sheriff Keller thinks nearly as little of it as his son does, simply agreeing to keep an eye on any further occurrences.

“I think it’s probably a hoax,” he says, showing the letter to Betty in the Blue and Gold offices. He doesn’t know if Kevin expected swearing him to secrecy to include Betty; but if Kevin did, he was daft to think so. There was no chance in hell he wasn’t telling Betty about this. A big part of him is scared, considering the toll that the Black Hood took on them both, when the murders were occurring. A much larger part of him knows that keeping this from Betty would be a profound breach of the trust that they share; and that, combined with the strange bit of him that’s excited by the strange mysteries that seem to surround them, just respects her wonderful, analytical mind.

“Oh, I think so,” says Betty, angry that someone would try. Her cheeks flush wonderfully.

“It’s a classic Phantom of the Opera trope,” says Jughead. “Or tripe, if you prefer. Mystery man writes a letter demanding a certain diva soprano be re-cast.”

“Soprano?” says Betty dubiously. “And who’s to say it’s even a mystery man, at all?”

“Oooft,” says Jughead. “Good point. There’s no reason it can’t have come from a woman.”

And he knows that both of them have someone in mind.

He kind of hopes they’re wrong.

Betty steps next to Ethel at the refreshment table.

“Hey,” she says. “Hey, Ethel, any of this stuff good?”

Oh, man, she’s really bad at interrogations, especially when she quite likes the person involved. She remembers Ethel’s help during the whole Chuck madness, how bad a time the Lodges have inflicted on the Muggses. She really doesn’t want Ethel to be the one who’s doing this.

She spouts some crap about how Cheryl always takes stuff that isn’t hers, and Ethel, sadly, catches the decidedly unstealthy Jughead trying to film them.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to get me to admit, but I’m not a violent person,” Ethel insists bitterly. “And I’d never hurt anybody for my own benefit, ever.”

She stalks off in disgust, and Jughead closes the camera.

“Do we go too far?” asks Betty. “Are we so used to everything being a mess that we just… do this to people now?”

Jughead looks at her, expression unreadable. 

“Reggie once said,” he says, “that it was probably me who killed Jason Blossom, because I was the obvious candidate. A weird loner. Maybe we’ve started thinking the same way.”

It’s not a comforting thing for him to have said, and Betty feels… well, she’s always had the vague comfort that she’s trying to do the right thing. This time, it doesn’t much feel like it.

She and Veronica fight through another rehearsal. Archie tries to remind her of how quickly Veronica forgave her when the Black Hood forced her to say horrible things, the night of that awful party in Nick St Clair’s hotel room.

 _It’s not the same thing_ , Betty thinks, but she resolves to calm a little. She and Veronica calm down. It’s easier than the state of open hostility between them.

Kevin gets another letter, with a final warning to replace Cheryl.

Things are getting more serious.

Jughead sees Cheryl and Toni talking quietly on the bleachers. He’s feeling bad enough about poor Ethel; he can’t imagine being invasive enough to go and ask them about this.

Eventually, Cheryl finds him, and tells him brittly that she’d like to give an interview about leaving the musical.

“It’s my harridan mother,” she says frankly. “If she wasn’t content with trying to change or erase my sexuality, she needs to try to destroy things I enjoy, to ruin my chance to regain a little equilibrium.”

“Cheryl, that sucks,” blurts Jughead.

“And to think, Betty fell in love you because of you way with words,” says Cheryl humorously, but there is less bite than ever in her words. None of them who came back from the Sisters of Quiet Mercy will ever be the same. He hopes, mildly, that in some way, helping to rescue Cheryl and reveal the horrors of that place, might go towards repairing some of the damage that his father inflicted on her. It’s not enough; it will never be enough, but he wants her to know that he wants so much better for her than what their fathers did.

He can’t express that right now. She’s right. He’s ineloquent when it’s something like this.

“What will you do?”

He settles for that.

Cheryl smirks.

“I have something to show my mother,” she says, and her red lips curve further into a shark’s grin. “I talked through it with Toni.”

Jughead swallows.

Penelope Blossom has no idea what’s coming to her.

Archie confesses to him, on camera, that he feels he couldn’t be further from Tommy Ross, from the sweet-natured, good boy that he’s portraying. He’s divided from his father, from his friends, from the good path that he always assumed was set out for him.

Jughead isn’t going to disagree. He’s wordless behind the camera.

Perhaps this is some new level of self-awareness that Archie has always lacked, always evading the consequences of his actions, ignoring how he’d hurt people.

Jughead hopes so, as he watches Archie head off in that expensive new car, towards the Pembrooke.

Betty and Alice are sitting at the dinner table. Betty’s too nervous to eat, and she thinks it must have rubbed off on Alice, because Alice isn’t eating either.

The front door opens, and Betty gets up, ready to greet her boyfriend, who must have got sick of recording opening night tech, and come home for a change of clothes.

Instead, it’s her dad, with two bunches of flowers.

“Hey, Alice,” he says nervously.

“Harold,” says Alice softly.

“I’d…” his voice trails off. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, and I’d really like to come home.”

It isn’t an argument, for once. Both of her parents’ voices stay soft, and calm. Betty listens anxiously from the corridor, as Alice and Hal talk through everything.

“I don’t want a reconciliation,” says Alice, frankly. “Not now. Maybe not ever. Too much has happened.”

“Okay,” says Hal cautiously.

“But I’d be okay with you coming around more.” Alice sighs. “Betty deserves both parents. And if Polly comes home again, I’d like… I’d like our grandchildren to meet their grandfather.”

“I’d like that too, Alice.” Hal’s voice is incredibly gentle. “I’d really like to meet my grandson and granddaughter.”

“Okay,” says Alice. “You need to accept, too, that Jughead lives here. He’s my responsibility, Hal, and his father will visit here sometimes. Nothing more that that; but we made that decision months ago, and I’m not willing to uproot that poor boy’s life again.”

“Okay,” says Hal, although his voice is colder. “Perhaps, we could… negotiate, with FP Jones, though.”

“I think we could,” says Alice, and Betty sighs with relief. She knows Jughead can cope with it. His own relationship with his father is so fraught, she knows he’d find it easier to meet him on neutral ground like Pop’s.

Does she want her parents reconciled? She doesn’t think so, not after everything. Back before Clifford Blossom, and Penelope Blossom, and Polly leaving, she might have hoped that everything would return to their nice nuclear family.

Now, though, all of that feels like a lie, and she doesn’t want to return to all the deception and years of repression.

She wouldn’t hate seeing her father more, however much she’s lost respect for him. He’s only human, she guesses, and he won’t be here the whole time.

Jughead can’t stop filming Betty, who looks cute, even in her ridiculous curlers. The Farrah Fawcett curls and the high-waisted flares look great on her (everything would look great on her, to him, to be fair), and she waves him away as Veronica perfects her make-up.

Everyone’s in high spirits. It’s not his thing, but it’s kind of infectious, even as he gets a glimpse of Sheriff Keller patrolling the dressing rooms, Kevin checking on Midge, their new lead.

“Ethel,” he says, knocking on the dressing room door, “I’m doing final interviews.”

In her room, he finds the tell-tale magazines with letters cut out. It’s like a typeface-based smoking gun.

“Ethel did it,” he says, astonished. They’d felt so guilty for accusing her earlier.

“They’re for my vision board,” Ethel says petulantly. Jughead whirls to face her, barely able to focus the camera. “Get out, Jughead!”

Moose shoves him, as he exits the dressing room.

Guess the good mood isn’t that infectious, then.

They’re doing vocal warm-ups in the dressing room. Betty can’t believe the sight of all of them in their costumes, from Chuck Clayton in his vest to Midge Klump in her sailor-suit.

Carrie’s such a weird choice of musical. Betty’s not a great fan of the songs, although most people have had a blast doing it.

Not Cheryl, though, although Cheryl seems to be persisting, with surprising patience, with the therapist. She’s in the audience tonight, and Betty saw her with a satisfied smile on her face, so something must have gone right for her.

The first couple of numbers go without a hitch, and Betty can barely remember being out there, on stage, because everything’s so well-choreographed, so rehearsed in her mind, that she could do it in her sleep. It still irritates her that playing Sue is barely a challenge, because it’s the same role she’s been playing her whole life; but she wants to be great despite that, and a little bit of her hopes she is, even if it’s just for Jughead, who is almost certainly training an unprofessional focus on her from the audience.

It’s a song called Evening Prayers, one of Betty’s rare rests from being onstage, and she watches from offstage. The girl playing Carrie’s mother is providing appropriate ham, and it’s quite fun.

The curtain raises.

Midge Klump is pinned to the wall, blood staining that blue sailor suit. There are knives embedded in her small body. Her arms are outstretched, like the scene from the film, like a bizarre crucifiction. Her head is slumped to one side, blood leaking from her mouth. She is not breathing.

For a moment, Betty’s brain refuses to compute.

 _I must have seen this bit differently, when we rehearsed it,_ she thinks, refusing to accept the horrible stillness of her classmate’s body.

Midge’s lifeblood is daubed on the set, a threat from the Black Hood.

_ALL THOSE WHO ESCAPED ME BEFORE WILL DIE._

The girl on stage turns, finally sees, and screams. Betty suddenly realises that she’s inched on to the stage in horrified fascination, now cast in the glare of the stage lights.

_ALL THOSE WHO ESCAPED ME BEFORE WILL DIE._

There is chaos.

All that Jughead can think is that he’s got to get to Betty.

Betty’s almost catatonic with fear, trembling in his arms, as they enter the house. They should have come home from a triumphant opening night, all adrenalin and endorphins. Instead, they just saw the body of one of their harmless classmates, pinioned against the wall on stage, crucified for the town to see. Betty’s had her name daubed in blood before, but her fear this time was for him, her hands clawing at his jacket when he finally found her backstage.

“He hates you,” she moaned. “Juggie, Juggie, he’ll kill you, I can’t lose you!”

Jughead ushers her past an ashen Alice, and the mysteriously returned Hal. Hal looks irritated that Jughead is all over Betty, but Jughead has no fucking time for him tonight. Tonight is to make sure they’re as safe as they can be.

He deposits them both in Betty’s bed, where Betty tries to cling to him, not letting go until he’s alongside her.

When she finally quiets into rest, he extricates himself, and perches in the window seat. If the Black Hood attacks from the front door, Hal is on the sofa. If he comes through the window, well,

Jughead’s going to do the best that a lanky sixteen-year-old with no fighting skills can do.

Betty wakes, casts around for Jughead, and panics for a moment when she realises he isn’t there. She sits bolt upright, only calming when she recognises his features, cast in moonlight in the window seat. He’s gazing out into the night, but his head is drooping.

“Idiot,” she says softly, getting out of bed and padding over to join him. She grabs a blanket, and he opens his arms reflexively as she sits in his lap. “We protect each other. It’s reciprocal. If I lost you because you were trying to keep me safe, do you think I’d be any better off?”

“I can’t help it.” His whisper is soft and warm in her ear, as she settles back into his chest. “I kept getting this feeling that we were being watched. I tried to tell myself I was wrong, but…”

“We all wanted to be wrong,” says Betty, and she can feel a tear trickle down her cheek. “And now Midge has paid the price.”

They stay like that all night. Neither of them can sleep, waiting for the next awful thing to happen. The dawn is early, and grey. It does not feel like a clean slate.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay no school musical has ever had a random parent in it so fuck that, no offence but fuck off was alice there
> 
> and this episode bored me
> 
> all i wanted was to get to the murder
> 
> so: potentially unpopular opinion for some, so bear with, but... i take the point that veronica forgave betty very quickly for the black hood defriending thing, but... it was a minor argument? that betty explained to her like a day later? veronica went head first, eyes open, into the MAFIA, largely of her own volition (i realise her parents were kinda coercive, but they also gave the option not to be involved at various times????). veronica then proceeded to lie to and manipulate betty, jughead, and most of the student body for either weeks or months, according to however time works in riverdale. don't really get why betty forgave her. SHE. WAS. IN. THE MAFIA. WHO. WERE. BUILDING. A. PRIVATE. PRISON. now, had the forgiveness come after veronica's realisation that this was a terrible fucking idea, i'd accept it; but there was nothing like that. veronica and archie were still pretty much full-steam ahead on the whole 'mafia' thing at this time.
> 
> do i think the whole mafia thing was boring, pointless and often badly thought out? yes. do i think it was kind of dodgy that hiram lodge was a mobster? absolutely. do i wish literally all of it hadn't happened? eh, i liked the protest serpents, but that all fizzled out in like two eps, and you can write that about gentrification, rather than leaning into portraying POC as involved in organised crime (making hermione unrecogniseable all of a sudden? in like one episode???!!!!!!!). basically, i think the whole plot was dodgy af. but i also think that, given context, betty had no reason to suddenly be like 'nah fuck it you're my bestie, despite actively working for A CRIME SYNDICATE' at this stage in the plot.
> 
> i dunno, i'm not a fan of the musical episodes. i guess i didn't mind big fun? genuine plot things happened sometimes in that. this whole ep, the only important thing was the murder tbh. the less said about 4x17 the better.
> 
> also are American high school auditoria like that? because our dressing rooms were, like, sixty kids in the music room near the stage. there were certainly no randos backstage (okay my older sister was admittedly there when i was the lead, much like chic and betty, but that was because she was doing the make-up, and was fully checked to be there). how much money do schools get?????????? damn. and a snacks table? i once remembered to bring my own lunch, and i think that's the only time there was food near me in the rehearsal. don't bitch about trail mix, we were lucky if we had chairs most of the time.
> 
> also why was there no teacher at any stage? my friends took turns directing, but there were still supervisors and shit. 
> 
> are US schools genuinely all high school musical and whatnot, or is this just what the former theatre kids who end up writing film and tv are projecting on their own pasts?
> 
> also!!!! i hated the chuck clayton bits of this episode!!! because i hated nearly everything they did with chuck clayton!!! it was a blatant and clumsy response to the justified criticism of making comics chuck, a serious artist with a long-term girlfriend, an aggressive sexual predator who preyed on mainly white women!!!! had it been well-written, i might not mind, but it was patronising and clumsy!!!!! remember, last time we saw chuck in canon, he was being hauled off for being framed for Cheryl's stalking!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! what a way to write the first black character in archie comics!!!!!!! we do representation!!! now chuck is a sexual assaulter!!!! but don't worry about that, we'll tell him, literally have veronica tell him, that he's redeemed, and then you'll never see him again!! yay for our diverse show!!!!!
> 
> what a pile of crap. i'm only glad the actor was able to leave the fucking show and do something better, i believe.


	20. Prisoners

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BLACK HOOD'S BACK, ALRIGHT

Midge’s funeral happens a few days later. The whole town is there; no-one can bring themselves to miss this. Betty wonders how many people are really there for the dead girl, how many are there to support her grieving family, and how many are just there from ghoulish curiosity. She’s hardly one to talk; she ran headfirst into asking questions about Jason’s death, even if she told herself she was trying to make sure Jason got justice.

The Vixens, oddly enough, are decked out in black versions of their customary uniforms. Grief has Betty feeling disconnected from the situation; instead of remembering Midge as she was, all she can think is how on earth Cheryl got hold of black Vixens uniforms. Did she have them already? Betty’s never seen then before. Were they made specifically for this? How bizarre.

Tears trickle down Cheryl’s pale face, as she sings plaintively. It’s yet another weirdness of Riverdale, how everyone accepts this at the funeral. Mr and Mrs Klump are wordless, shadowy reflections of themselves.

Alice, Betty and Jughead stand together, near the coffin. Betty never knew Midge that well, and she knows Jughead had almost never talked to poor Midge, despite over ten years at school together. Alice is worse, if anything; she’s the one who knows Mrs Klump from PTA meetings, remembers Midge as a tiny little girl. She clutches Betty’s arm closely, crying silently. Betty knows her mother is almost certainly projecting. She wraps her left hand around her mother’s, winding their fingers together.

Her right hand holds Jughead’s. 

If Alice is scared for Betty, Betty is fucking terrified for Jughead. Jughead is the one who the Black Hood threatened before, along with Veronica. Moose and Fred are here, which Betty thinks is brave, since the Black Hood almost killed both of them.

But the Black Hood stalked her, spent days terrorising her, and his hatred was focussed on Jughead. Betty knows her boyfriend’s fears revolve around the Black Hood coming after Betty. Her own fears for Jughead himself almost choke her when she thinks of him.

Cheryl is spitting fire, as she gives a speech. Betty’s not entirely sure why Cheryl is the one giving this eulogy (admittedly, Cheryl has a turn of phrase secondary only to Jughead), since she only really interacted with Midge as a cheerleader, but perhaps Betty’s cousin is still the unelected spokesperson of the student body. Has Riverdale ever seen a year where two of the high school students are murdered before? Betty hopes not.

Kevin’s dad goes to talk to Mrs Klump, to offer her some words of support. The slap that he receives in return echoes around the graveyard.

“Dad!” says Kevin plaintively, rushing over to his father. Betty sees Veronica and her parents watching with thinly veiled interest.

Jughead hands his camera over to Sheriff Keller without a pause.

_I could have seen him,_ he thinks. _Somewhere on there, I could have recorded the Black Hood getting ready to kill Midge Klump._

“Everything was fine,” he says, thinking back over the way he and Betty had gone searching for the person who’d written the letters. “Everything was fine, until Cheryl started getting those letters.”

“The letters,” said Sheriff Keller. “Yeah, I don’t know about that, Jughead. Thanks for the camera. I’ll let you know when you can have your stuff back, but that footage is gonna be evidence.”

“Sure,” says Jughead, slightly embarrassed by the prospect of his intense focus on Betty being shown in a court of law. He was planning to edit it pretty carefully, as he was sure he’d tried to get as much footage of her in those jeans as possible.

As he steps out of the room, he sees other students waiting in the corridor. Ethel Muggs is there, tears trickling down her face. Of course, she’s going to be a suspect; she’d already copycatted the Black Hood to threaten Cheryl, and then Cheryl’s understudy got murdered.

It’s a rare day that Jughead himself isn’t the usual suspect.

A few feet away, Moose Mason sits with his head in his hands. _Oh, Moose_ , thinks Jughead, although his sympathy is tempered by the knowledge of Moose’s perpetual infidelity and messing Kevin around.

“Hey, Jug.”

Archie lounges at the far end of the corridor, his funeral suit crumpled. He looks just as scared as the rest of him, and Jughead thinks that Archie’s downwards spiral was all linked to this; to his feelings of powerlessness after the attack on Fred.

“Pop’s, later?” Archie suggests hopefully. “Us and the girls?”

“…sure,” says Jughead. There’s no point in maintaining his aloofness on a day like today.

It is a subdued group that sits in Pop’s after the funeral. Betty’s still pretty uncomfortable around Archie and Veronica, still knows she and Jughead can’t really trust them, but… 

Death tends to put things in perspective. She’d rather they weren’t on terrible terms, just in case one of them becomes the Hood’s next victim.

“I think Sheriff Keller’s right, for once.” Jughead is animated. She can practically hear the cogs in his mind whirring, after their long vigils in the night. He’s almost manic in his intensity, swearing he can feel someone watching them.

Betty feels it too.

“I think it’s got to be a copycat!” Jughead continues. Betty puts a gentling hand on his knee, seeing that he’s about to go off on a tangent.

Archie reminds them that he’d never believed Mr Svenson was the Black Hood.

“I looked in his eyes,” he says. “It wasn’t Mr Svenson.”

Archie has always maintained that.

  
Jughead leads her to his bike afterwards. Her arm is still linked in his. She’s struggling to sleep too, jerking awake with semi-lucid fears that he’s been shot, stabbed, murdered for his association with the Southside.

“I feel like there should be something we can do,” he says. It’s been a recurring theme, since opening night. Betty knows what hyperfocus feels like. “We’ve been there for all of it, since nearly the very beginning. We were the ones investigating at the school. I feel like I’m letting everyone down because I can’t see what’s-”

“You aren’t letting anyone down,” Betty interrupts, accepting her own helmet from his jittering hands. “We’re kids, Jug, it’s not our responsibility.”

Jughead huffs; but his hands shake less, and he cuddles Betty into him.

They go home.

“Are we a stereotype?” Betty gasps into his ear, not much later. His hands are travelling up her splayed legs, and her mouth waters at the prospect of his mouth, or his cock inside her, but she can’t quite switch her brain off.

“Mph,” says Jughead, pressing a kiss to one of her collarbones with a nip. “Yes, probably, but which one?”

“Sex after funerals,” blurts Betty. His fingers slide up, up, until he’s just brushing her clit. She shudders at his teasing. “The whole – uh, uh, there, baby, please – affirming life to defy death thing.”

Jughead looks up at her instantly.

“You want to stop?” he says softly, and meets her eyes, and she knows if she asked him he’d stop instantly, just hold her close.

Neither of them has felt like sex since the murder, but Betty can’t bear the idea of not being close to him, stopping this soft, sweet intimacy. She just can’t help analysing.

“No,” she whispers, stroking his hair. 

“No,” he says, equally quiet, and kisses her like it’ll keep her – both of them – alive.

Sheriff Keller sits on the Cooper’s sofa. His uniform is dishevelled, ill-fitting, and Jughead has rarely seen a more obvious visual metaphor. He’s not sure why Keller is here in person to question all of them, since he’s already taken Betty’s and his statements, and Alice and Hal talked to deputies on the night of the murder.

Hal is in a particularly bombastic, aggressively friendly mood. He’d greeted Jughead with an odd avuncularity when he entered the house, clapping him heavily on the shoulder and calling him ‘Jug’. His eyes were just as cold as ever, though, and Jughead has no doubts that Hal is far from reconciled to Jughead’s presence in the house.

Jughead clutches Betty’s hand.

“We’re just making more enquiries,” says Keller wearily. “I know I’ve asked you, but Betty, Jughead, is there really no-one unusual you can recall seeing around the time of the murder?”

Jughead wants to snap _we told you_ , but manages to restrain himself. For once, it’s not him under suspicion. He’s just always going to be skeevy around the police.

“No-one in this house saw anything,” says Hal cheerily, and it’s the same false bonhomie that he uses towards Jughead. Jughead wonders what Sheriff Keller’s done to piss Hal off. 

Hal swings an arm around Alice, who flinches. Jughead feels Betty shrink into his side, and hopes they can escape another incoming parental blow-up. Hal’s been on best behaviour on his visits there, but… it can only last so long, and Alice’s days of repressing her rage at her ex-husband are numbered.

Keller leaves; Hal doesn’t.

Betty leads a retreat to her room, Jughead a very willing rearguard. He thinks he hears Hal screaming about the prospect of Betty and Jughead in her room together.

Betty sits cross-legged on her bed, and hauls her laptop over, beckoning Jughead imperiously.

They fall asleep in front of _Succession,_ and sleep for nearly ten hours.

School is a very strange affair. No-one really wants to be the first to mention the elephant in the room; but once Toni inadvertently mentions the musical, with a wince, it’s all anyone can talk about. Fangs, in particular, goes grey.

“…Svenson was the only survivor of a murder my Nana Rose knew about, years ago,” she says. Her voice is defiant, and as much as time has changed Cheryl, she enjoys holding court as much as ever. Her tone changes, however, when she mentions the next part.

“They sent him to grow up, in that…” Cheryl seems to shrink physically. “… that awful place. The Sisters of Quiet Mercy.”

Betty looks up sharply, and exchanges a look with Jughead.

Toni has put a gentle hand into Cheryl’s.

“I won’t let it define me,” Cheryl snaps, but she doesn’t drop Toni’s hand, and she clearly controls her breathing. Betty’s talked to Cheryl about therapy before, about coping, and she sees Cheryl’s shoulders relax, and her stomach rise and fall, slow and controlled.

They change the subject abruptly.

Jughead and Betty have pored over every bit of evidence they have from the first Black Hood murders. The worst part, undoubtedly, was going back over the notes they’d made on the phone calls. Jughead can hardly bear to remember those horrible days. The way the Hood had manipulated Betty had been painfully simple and effective, and Jughead had been forced to watch as his brilliant girlfriend nearly crumpled under the weight of it all.

_We beat him before_ , he thinks, remembering their brief periods of happiness. _We can do it again._

The police still don’t know that the Black Hood called Betty quite as much as he did, and Jughead’s afraid it’s far too late to tell them. He doesn’t know what the rules on withholding evidence would be like there, as well.

There’s nothing new. There are newspaper clippings that they dug up from the old murders that Svenson survived, the old mass murderer called the Riverdale Reaper. There are the public facts of Svenson’s suicide by cop. They know he was sent to the Sisters, which couldn’t have helped, with everything they now know about that place; but what can that tell them?

Betty heaves a frustrated sigh, and pulls her hair tie out, relaxing her ponytail. It’s a sight few people except Jughead get to see, Betty with her hair down and unstyled, and he can’t stop himself running his fingers through the tresses.

“Mmm,” says Betty, leaning into his touch. “My roots are all sore.”

Jughead sinks his fingers further into her hair, massaging her scalp gently. He thinks Betty might purr.

Cheryl bursts in.

“Disgusting,” she says fondly. “I see you two have reverted to traditional primate behaviour again, my little troglodytes. Would you care for a distraction from your ghoulish focus on this murdering felon?”

Jughead drops his hands, embarrassed.

“I had a visit,” says Cheryl, “from one Hermione Lodge.”

“Hermione?” says Betty, and her hair’s back in a messy bun before Jughead can blink. “What did she want?”

“Well,” says Cheryl, “using great, and admittedly true flattery, she attempted to persuade me to write an ‘op-ed’, demanding that Sheriff Keller be fired. Now, while our local law enforcement have been almost embarrassingly bad, throughout this time, culminating in no less than your own selves discovering the truth about… about my father, I can’t help but feel that Mrs Lodge does not have the town’s best interests at heart in asking this.”

She looks wilted, but defiant.

“I don’t like to be used,” she says. “My speech at the funeral was from the bosom of my heart, and I truly believe that we do need more help here. However, I will not be allowing my words to serve the purposes of a nefarious group like the Lodges.”

Jughead scowls. Yes, he has his own problems with Sheriff Keller, and shouldn’t a serial killer, even a failed serial killer for the most part, be under more serious jurisdiction? But his instincts tell him that Cheryl’s right, and the Lodges have their own reasons for wanting Keller gone.

“So we, what, try to make sure they can’t force Keller out?” says Betty. “Can we do that? If Hermione Lodge is already writing her piece-”

“She won’t have my support,” says Cheryl coolly. “And I don’t mean to blow my own trumpet – well, I do, but an emotive piece by the articulate teenage girl who was not only friends with the most recent victim, but was at the centre of the town’s most notorious tragedy? They chose me well. Or, tried to.”

Cheryl has given them time to respond to Hermione’s hatchet job. An article is already taking shape in Jughead’s mind – the political minefield of a mayoral candidate trying to write negative spin on the local sheriff is rife with corrupt insinuations – and he sees that Betty’s already scribbling notes.

“Ugh,” says Cheryl again. “I can’t believe this is your kink. I shall go and warn our dear Kevin that his father is about to be under attack.”

She whirls out of the classroom. Cheryl is a true force of nature, and Jughead’s grateful that she’s on their side these days.

Veronica and Archie are almost obnoxious in their radio silence. Betty vaguely hopes that they’re off having defiant sex marathons again, rather than working for Veronica’s parents. These days, she thinks she understands that a lot better, and wonders how soon she can persuade Jughead to indulge her in some of her fantasies again.

Her phone starts to ring.

_I deleted Lollipop from the fucking thing_ , she thinks, but she was afraid of this. Jughead’s head snaps up at the sound of that stupid song, and his hand clutches reflexively round the pen he was using.

It’s a horribly familiar routine, putting the phone on speakerphone so Jughead can transcribe as much of the conversation as possible.

_“Did you miss me?”_ that horrible voice asks, and Betty always knew it wasn’t a copycat. _“Deep down, you knew this wasn’t over.”_

Tears cloud her eyes. She can barely see, glancing up at Jughead, her ever-present support system.

“You killed Midge,” she accuses. “You set up Mr Svenson.”

_“Of course.”_ There is no hint of remorse. Why would there be? “ _And yet, for all I’ve taught you, you’ve remained on your mistaken course. A sinner lives in your house, comfortable and welcomed by you and your mother. I’m very disappointed, Betty. He’s dirt, from a family of dirty criminals, and he will taint you, ruin your purity that makes us the only forces for justice in this town._ ”

“Fuck you!” spits Betty, and she can’t take this anymore. “You don’t know anything about any of us, you hypocritical fantasist pervert! You don’t know anything about him, or anything about me!”

She cuts the call, and throws the phone across the room, where, miraculously, it doesn’t shatter.Jughead is methodically writing words like ‘sinner’, ‘taint’ and ‘criminal’ in the notebook. Betty lifts his head, sees that he looks as hurt as she feared, and straddles his lap.

“No, Jughead,” she says definitely, brushing tears from his cheeks with her thumbs. “None of that. He is not worth it. You aren’t dirt, and I was never pure. We’re people, and he’s just some psychopath who gets off on this. He doesn’t get to make moral pronouncements on either of us. We’re going to ignore him, Jug. No more power over either of us.”

He reaches up to trace a tear from her cheek. It’s so unbearably soft, Betty thinks she might die of it, and isn’t that absurd?

Hermione Lodge’s article comes out, and it’s a hatchet job. Mysteriously, on the day before, the local news website that’s started to cover both the North- and Southside releases an article about the corruption and authoritarianism inherent in a politician trying to use a crisis to score political points like this.

Kevin’s father keeps his job – barely. 

Hal visits the house more often. He’s irate that Betty, Toni, Cheryl and the others who work on the website are beginning to undercut the Register’s readership, and the person he’s most irritated with is, of course, Jughead.

“It’s not that your writing isn’t good,” he says, on one of his frequent visits to the Cooper house, “It’s just that it’s a little… juvenile, Jughead? And your website takes itself very seriously, for the naïve attitude it has to certain events in Riverdale.”

“Oh, really.” Jughead turns a page of The Armies of the Night with an ostentatious lack of concern. “Well, people seem to enjoy reading a different take on things.”

It’s the best he can do to defuse the situation. He’s never been capable of keeping his mouth shut, which is part of why he used to just avoid confrontation in all its forms.

Hal alternates between snapping at him and patronising him, as Betty desperately tries to deflect, and Jughead desperately tries to ignore. Eventually, Alice has enough.

“Hal,” she says, “I think it’s time for you to go, okay? I’m taking Jughead to see his father at Pop’s shortly, and Betty and I will both go with him.”

“FP Jones,” says Hal, with a resigned chuckle. “Of course, his son wants to prevent the Lodges’ plans for the Southside.”

Jughead looks up sharply.

“Dad,” says Betty, and her voice wobbles. When Jughead looks at her, he can see that Betty is staring at her father in confusion, a dawning fear on her face. He drops his book for the first time, ready to go to her side, but Betty ushers him back.

“Oh, I’ll go, Betty, don’t worry.” Hal takes his coat with another chuckle. “I’ve got lots of things to be getting on with. There are a lot more people in this town than just the ones in this house.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoa guys i took like a week off from writing so i'm sorry for the pause, but the weather has been unusually good and I've been trying to appreciate it while i can
> 
> anyway i liked this ep in canon, good bughead (not a big fan of the violence/handing chic over though), annoying but well-executed Charles reveal, veronica and archie actually had something to do for once, the plot kinda moved along? yeah it was fun.
> 
> sorry there's no chic but fuck him i guess
> 
> also i liked Cheryl being on the side of the goodies. why the fuck would anyone take the local cheerleading team seriously as a threat to the police department? shut up and do your homework, children, ffs.


	21. Shadow of a Doubt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the hunt for midge's murderer continues, and betty starts to have an awful suspicion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you ever seen the namesake film? it's a bit weird tbh

Hal drops over for breakfast.

It’s even more uncomfortable than it used to be, before Hal started to really resent Jughead, and before Betty and Jughead became even more entangled than they already were. On the one hand, Hal sits at the table like he still lives there, and Alice is nothing if not a good hostess. On the other hand, she’s as hostile towards Hal as she once was towards Jughead, watching Hal drink his coffee the way she’d watched Jughead eat pancakes.

It doesn’t help that Jughead and Betty were up both late and early. Last night, they were up working on campaign speeches for the next electoral debate. This morning, Jughead decided to wake Betty up with gentle kisses, which became harder kisses, which became relentless grinding, her perched on his hips, until they shuddered through a sweet, shared orgasm.

Jughead really hopes Hal can’t tell that Jughead’s current good mood is based on sex with Betty.

Betty seems desperately uncomfortable too, and Jughead feels guilty that he’s put her in this position. Her spine is rigid, and she keeps glancing away from Hal as if she can’t bear to look at him.

“Is there something on your mind, honey?” asks Hal, and he gives Betty the same fond smile that he always has.

Betty stares at him. Her thigh is tense under Jughead’s hand.

“I feel like we’ve been tested,” she says eventually. “Like everything that’s happened has been to see how we cope with it, and whether we come out stronger, or… worse.”

“And what do you think the conclusion is, Betty?” asks Alice bitterly, decidedly not looking at Hal.  
“I don’t know yet,” Betty replies, and takes a sip of her orange juice. Her eyes never leave Hal.

She and Jughead walk to school, the same route they take nearly every morning. Should Betty feel different? Every few minutes, she feels like she forgets, like everything’s normal again, and then she remembers what she’s afraid of.

It’s like a physical blow to her chest. She thinks Jughead must notice soon, how her eyes widen and she jerks with the actual pain of her thoughts.

“This town is such a disaster,” says Jughead, hands in his pockets. “Most places this size would only have to worry about small-scale corruption, but no, we’ve got to have a serial killer, a mob boss and a half-rigged election all tied up and feeding off each other as well. Still, I suppose the silver lining is that it can’t get any worse.”

“My dad could be the Black Hood,” mumbles Betty.

Jughead snorts.

“Yeah, okay. That would be worse,” he says, and marches along. It takes him a few moments to realise that Betty’s pace is much slower than his, and he looks back at her.

Damn, he can read her so well. Betty can’t remember the last time she managed to keep a secret from him.

“Betty,” he calls, and he’s gone pale. Betty moves slowly towards him. Her steps feel sludgy, like the drizzle is weighing her down.

“Betty,” he says again. He takes her free hand between his trembling own. “Are you… are you being serious?”

Betty’s lip trembles embarrassingly.

“I don’t know,” she says quietly. “I’ve been so wrong before. There’s just… a few things he’s said. Some timings that add up. But that could all be coincidental.”

“It could,” says Jughead desperately. “Let’s do this properly. I’m sure you’ll turn out to be wrong. I mean, I really hope so.”

The Blue and Gold is covered in their notes. Betty’s tried to line up everything she can remember of her father’s movements, as Jughead adjusts their Black Hood timeline. It’s all there – every murder, every call.

“There’s nothing that rules him out,” says Betty, and Jughead gets a sinking feeling in his heart.

“That doesn’t mean it’s him,” he points out. “And some of it could have been Svenson. We still don’t know how much he did of his own accord.”

Cheryl appears in the door, on one of her periodic visits to the Blue and Gold. 

“Greetings, Hobo, Bride of Hobo,” she says cheerfully. “I wanted to ask… what’s this, Betty?”

“Cheryl,” says Betty, and Jughead realises what Betty’s going to ask before she even says it. “I need to ask you something. Feel free to tell me to piss off, if it’s too much. I’ll understand if you do.”

Cheryl sits down heavily, dropping her little backpack.

“I am filled with dread,” she says, seriously. “From your tone, and the materials I see here, I have… a feeling about what you’re going to ask.”

Betty sighs, and puts her head in her hands.

“Cheryl,” she says. “Before we found the video… Did you know? That your father was a murderer?”

Cheryl is silent for a moment. She looks like a tranquil marble statue, expressionless, until she nods her head slowly.

“Subconsciously,” she says, “I think I did. Even when your father, Jughead, was arrested, I was… surprised. I had already begun to fear my own parents. And I think that was why I was so angry when you tried to apologise to me. I felt no closure. I just felt wrong. It was almost… a relief, Betty, when you told me the truth, that I wasn’t going mad, that my parents were the liars, not me.”

Cheryl’s lip trembles.

“My doctor says I should talk about it,” she says, “but I’m not sure she means you asking me because you’re afraid of your own father.”

Betty looks shocked.

“We can stop,” Jughead blurts. “Cheryl, you don’t have to tell us anything.”

“I’m right, aren’t I?” Cheryl looks weary. “Frankly, I think your father isn’t the killing type, but then I would never have truly believed that my own could kill his treasured male heir, until the evidence started piling up, and my heart began to tell me it was the case.”

“That’s what I feel,” says Betty softly. “I’m so sure.”

“Go to the authorities,” says Cheryl. “As incapable as Sheriff Keller’s been, it’s the right thing to do, Betty.”

“No,” says Betty, and Cheryl rolls her eyes expressively. “I can’t. Not until I’m sure.”

“I can understand that,” says Cheryl, “but if I’d told the police about my suspicions, maybe my dad would have faced justice, instead of... you know. Maybe _someone_ would be in prison for Jason’s murder.”

She flashes an apologetic look at Jughead. Jughead nods gravely; he knows his father deserved it. Their relationship will always be strained by that.

“So,” says Cheryl. “We’ll investigate, if you’re really set on this course. We’ll need a confession, or positive proof; and we’ll need the time in which to do this.”

“Cheryl,” says Betty. “You don’t have to help. Maybe you shouldn’t help. You’ve already been through so much, I-”

“I need to do this, cousin,” interrupts Cheryl. “You two were the only people who wanted to find justice for my brother, who really tried, and the people responsible for his death went free. For Midge’s sake, I don’t want the same to happen again. And if I can help to work out that at least one of our fathers isn’t a complete piece of work… I’d like that.”

The Bulldogs, Archie and Kevin gather in the locker room. Betty doesn’t know what’s going on there, and while she doesn’t want to know, she has a horrible feeling they’ll be finding out sooner or later.

On the other side of the school, Sweet Pea summons them to the Swords and Serpents club.

“Bad news,” he says briefly. “The Ghoulies are out.”

“Ghoulies?” says Cheryl. “Who the hell are the Ghoulies?”

“A rival gang,” says Toni. “You remember the drag race where we met? The other guys.”

“Oh,” says Cheryl expressively. _“Them.”_

“Well, word is they’re angry, and they’re looking for Serpent blood.” Sweet Pea sighs. “And anyone associated with Serpents. And there’s more, they’ve-”

“Hey!”

The Bulldogs pour into the classroom, in a sea of blue and yellow muscular rage, led by none other than chief idiot Reggie Mantle.

“What now, Reggie?” snaps Jughead. “Now’s not a great time for a dick-measuring contest.”

Betty yanks on Jughead’s arm.

“Is that defusing things?” she hisses. Jughead scowls, but backs down.

Reggie raises a thick finger.

“Which one of you snakes was hooking up with Midge?” he demands. “We know one of you was. Moose told us. I’m thinking, how about it wasn’t the Black Hood that killed her? How about it was some Serpent bastard, used the Hood to trick us?”

He steps up to Sweet Pea, who glares at him.

“How about you, big guy?”

Sweet Pea slaps his finger away.

“I didn’t even know Midge Klump,” he snaps, “but I can understand why she wouldn’t want fleas from a mangy Bulldog.”

Oh, that won’t help either.

Reggie shoves Sweet Pea, and the room boils, both sides about to rush one another, before both Jughead and Archie dart into the middle, pushing Sweet Pea and Reggie away from one another.

“Hey!”

Cheryl Blossom, unacknowledged queen of the school, stands at the front of the room, eyes narrowed in disgust.

“Your attitudes and ideas are repulsive,” she says, furious. “What part of this is going to help Midge, Mantle the Miniscule? Take your stupid crew of thugs and leave, please. Kevin, you know better than these idiots, I’m mildly disappointed.”

Betty sees Kevin, implausibly, standing with the Bulldogs. She can’t imagine what he’s doing with them. She knows he’s smarting from the harsh treatment of his father, but… this? Mob violence is not in his area of interest. She tries to catch his eye, but he ignores her.

“What are we going to do?” asks Jughead uselessly, his head in Betty’s lap. Just after things were beginning to calm down, after there had been some hint of Northside-Southside solidarity, everything is reverting to the way it was before, no doubt aided and encouraged by the Lodges.

Betty’s hands are very gentle in his hair. He thinks of Sweet Pea shoving back against him in the not-quite fight earlier, and the idea of someone else’s hands on him.

“I don’t know,” she says hopelessly. “Could Moose be lying? He has no reason to, but then this mysterious Serpent may have no reason to have killed Midge. And- Oh, my God, Jughead, I’ve been an idiot.”

“Why?” asks Jughead, sitting up. “What is it?”

“We’re the only people who know that it’s not a copycat.” Betty knew this would come back to bite her in the ass. She couldn’t bring herself to tell the police about the calls from the Black Hood. Not after everything. And by the time she realised she could tell them about the coercion, the threats to Polly’s life if she went to the police, it was too late. “We’re the only people who know about the phone calls.”

Jughead stares at her.

“It’s not too late,” he says softly. “We can still take the phone in. It was only days ago. Say you thought it was a prank. Say he threatened you again.”

“Jug,” Betty can feel herself crying. “We concealed evidence.”

“But your hand was forced.” Jughead fixes her with an intense look. Her hands are curling into balls, and he grasps them desperately. “If we don’t go, they’ll be looking in the wrong place. Keller has to know it’s the same man. We tell him… we tell him he used language that only us and the police know about, from the letters he sent you. We tell him it was only this one call, and it only just occurred to you that he couldn’t know about the letters unless it was him, or a police officer!”

“You think that’ll work?”

Betty is so scared, and her crippling fear has brought them to this point. If she tells the police, they might see through their hastily constructed story, and she might go to jail for concealing evidence. But if she doesn’t…

“If we don’t tell them,” says Jughead softly, “they might keep looking for the wrong person.”

Keller takes it well. He’s angry, but he believes her, that it only occurred to her now that the phone call wasn’t a prank, that she didn’t want to waste his time. He takes her statement. It’s the first time that Betty’s been grateful for Keller’s mild incompetence.

Keller is drawn. His hair looks greyer than it did a few months ago. Betty has no idea how hard it really is, policing a town like Riverdale.

There’s a new man with him, a brash young guy called Minetta. None of the other staff seem comfortable around him.

Alice waits outside for them at the station.

“You should have told me, Betty,” she says wearily. “I know you thought it was just a prank, but… he’s out there, Betty, and he seems to have it in for us.”

“Mom,” says Betty, “You’re right.”

She’s lying again, and she feels terrible.

“Maybe… maybe tomorrow, I can work with you and Dad at the Register?” she suggests. Jughead looks at her with wide, frightened eyes. “I’d like to get some work there, and… I’d like to spend time with both of you. In case something terrible happens.”

“It won’t,” snaps Alice, but then she softens. “But I’d like that. And I think your father would too.”

Jughead gulps audibly.

“Promise me you’ll be careful,” he says, much later, stroking the soft skin of her abdomen as they lie curled up together. “I know you’re buying time. But I need you to be careful, even if you’re wrong.”

His touch with her is so delicate. It’s a strange contrast to Betty; when she’s asked him, he’s been deliciously rough with her, but at times like this, his gentleness is soothing, endearing.

“I will,” she promises, snuggling further back into his chest. “I won’t do anything stupid, as long as you don’t.”

Jughead chuckles. The vibrations lull her into sleepiness.

Fangs confesses that he was the Serpent who was seeing Midge. Jughead caught it on tape, apparently, although Jughead can’t remember having seen anything less than innocent.

“I know it makes me look guilty,” pleads Fangs, “but I didn’t kill her, Jug, I swear!”

“I know you didn’t,” says Jughead, trying to think. He knows what it’s like to end up hiding stuff from the police, just as much as he knows what it’s like to have a Southsider’s healthy distrust of the cops. “I can’t get that footage back, Fangs. You’ve got to go to Keller. The longer this goes on, the worse it looks. And all it is is circumstantial. It’s your only option.”

“Fuck,” says Fangs bleakly. “Always thought I’d go to jail for Serpent shit, not for hooking up with a girl I liked. Christ, Jones, what am I going to do?”

“You’re going to go to the police!” says Jughead. “Look, you’re a kid. And yesterday, me and Betty had to go to Keller with information about the Black Hood, later than we should have, okay? And they’ll know it wasn’t you. I swear.”

Fangs drops his head into his hands.

“Fuck,” he says, again.

They do take Fangs for questioning, but Keller knows that the Black Hood called Betty. Fangs cooperates. He knows it’s his best hope.

Meanwhile, Jughead heads to school. He can’t face a second trip to the police station in as many days, to meet that strange new deputy with the cold, calculating eyes. Something about him rubs him up the wrong way.

Not that he likes any cops.

There is a flyer plastered over his locker, and initially, he ignores it, assuming that it’s yet more election propaganda. It takes him a second look to see that it’s for the Dark Circle.

“Jesus fucking wept,” he says, ripping the flyer from his letter.

“Archie!” he shouts, slamming the door to the classroom open. “Archie, what the fuck?! Why are you doing this shit again?!”

“Calm down, bro.” Archie’s stupid fucking face is placid, calm. “Reggie made those, not me.”

Reggie Mantle again. Amazing.

“You still need to call your stupid-ass circle-jerk off the Serpents!” spits Jughead, and Archie seems genuinely taken aback by Jughead’s anger. “Look, one of them _was_ hooking up with Midge, but we both know that it was the real Black Hood that killed Midge! You said it yourself! Scapegoating the Serpents isn’t going to get any of us anywhere!”

Archie looks nonplussed.

“Which Serpent?” he asks.

“Which Serpent,” mocks Jughead. “What the hell does that matter? He’s with Keller already. Why would you worry about that when there’s an actual murderer on the loose, Archie? He’s not the fucking Black Hood!”

“Okay,” says Archie, and he’s gone bright pink. “Okay, I’ll talk to Reggie about backing down. I trust you, bro.”

Well.

Jughead can’t deny that that still means a lot to him, even after everything that’s happened. Archie favours him with an unusually soft grin. Maybe they can talk their way out of all of this.

“I’m going to the station, to make sure he’s okay,” says Jughead. “Everyone will know about it, soon enough, but he doesn’t deserve his name dragged through the mud as a potential murderer.”

Archie offers to come. As soon as they step in, Jughead sees the strange new deputy, talking to none other than Hiram Lodge.

“Ah, Michael,” says Lodge, and the air of familiarity with which he talks to Minetta is telling. “Here are the young men I was telling you about.”

Minetta compliments Archie, refers to the stupid Dark Circle as ‘the safety initiative’. To his credit, Archie looks unimpressed by Minetta’s praise.

“And this is the other one,” says Hiram dryly, turning to face Jughead. Jughead absolutely knows he shouldn’t get a kick out of the way that Lodge has to look up at him, but he definitely does.

“The muckraker,” says Minetta. “The troublemaker.”

Jughead chuckles.

“You forgot iconoclast,” he says, equally unimpressed. _Of course you’re a fascist_ , he thinks, and asks for his camera back.

Fangs emerges from the room, and Keller looks exhausted.

“Try to be less stupid next time, son,” he says, but he seems understanding, and Fangs is almost shaking with relief. “I am gonna have to ask that you remain available to contact.”

“Yeah,” says Fangs. “Yeah, I can do that. Hey, Jones. They’re letting me go.”

They head to meet Sweet Pea, Toni and Cheryl at Pop’s. Jughead is already itching to leave, to head to the Register to help Betty, but he wants to make sure Fangs is with friends first. Inside Pop’s, he spots Veronica, Archie, and some implausibly well-dressed young man conversing earnestly in a booth. Well, Veronica’s smirking, but negotiating, and so is the smarmy young man. Archie just looks bored.

Alice and Hal appear.

“Jughead,” says Alice. “We’re getting some dinner. Will you be okay looking after yourself? Betty’s still at the Register, so you could take her some take-out.”

Jughead meets Hal square in the eyes.

 _Could he have killed Midge_? he asks himself. He has no instinct about it, the way that Betty does, but Hal Cooper’s eyes meet his own sternly, and he realises, something inside him wouldn’t be surprised.

Cheryl turns up to help Betty, almost as soon as her parents have departed.

“It all matches up,” she says bleakly. “I’ve cross-referenced his planner with all the murders, and it all lines up. He doesn’t have an alibi for any of the murders. He was even away on a business trip, the night Grundy was murdered.”

“It’s not proof.” Cheryl is reluctantly leafing through the planner with a dark fascination.

The door swings open, and Betty leaps, thinking that it’s her father returning, catching them in the act.

Instead, it’s just Jughead, cradling bags of Pop’s.

“Sorry!” he says. “Didn’t mean to startle anyone.”

“You have all the subtlety of a freight train horn,” says Cheryl. “I hope you have my-”

“Cherry phosphate,” says Jughead, handing it over automatically. “And fries.”

“Hmph,” says Cheryl. “Was TT there? She told me about Fangs. I’m glad you’ve picked up a habit of persuading people to go to the police, even if they are useless.”

“Ugh.” Jughead shudders. “You make me sound like such a narc, Cheryl.”

“And doesn’t that fill you with rage?”

Betty giggles. They are surprisingly similar at times. They can both make her laugh with a pithy statement, and it’s funny trying to watch them outdo one another.

Over unhealthy greasy takeaway, Jughead explains about Minetta, the new deputy in Hiram Lodge’s pocket. Betty can’t bring herself to sit down yet, searching as many filing cabinets as possible.

“Betty,” calls Jughead, “eat something.”

She ignores him.

“The walking food processor is right, cousin,” says Cheryl. “We aren’t going to find more than the timeline corroboration tonight.”

It’s the talk of the town the next day, that Fangs Fogarty turned himself in for being Midge Klump’s hook-up, the night of her death; but the Register already reports that he was released with no charges. The school is uneasy, and it’s split between the people who think that the Black Hood is back, and those who think Fangs is still suspect number one.

“Fangs isn’t in today,” says Toni, entering the student lounge in a huff. “It makes sense. And those idiot Bulldogs are still baying for his blood.”

Jughead looks sharply at Archie.

“It’s not me,” says Archie wearily. “I have to protect my dad. He’s getting threatened again, and as well as that, Veronica and I have our own stuff going on.”

Betty genuinely doesn’t care to ask what the stuff is, although her fears for gentle, harmless Fred rear their ugly heads again.

 _If it’s my dad,_ she thinks _, shifting uncomfortably, the man Fred’s lived beside for twenty years hates him. Nearly killed him._

The school simmers in the early spring heat. Cheryl is storming through the school, verbally destroying anyone who says that Fangs is the murderer. When one Bulldog has the gumption to assert that she’s only defending Fangs because Cheryl herself is fucking a Serpent, Cheryl, astoundingly, steps back.

She steps back, and Toni steps forward.

“What did I hear you say, asshole?” says Toni. “You wanna reduce a girl to nothing more than the person she’s sleeping with? You think she can’t still make up her own mind? You lose all autonomy when you sleep with someone? No? Then why don’t you shut the fuck up before I make you shut the fuck up?”

The Bulldog backs down.

It’s a beautiful thing to see, Betty thinks.

The Dark Circle goes wilding on the Southside again. This time, they slash the tires on all the bikes at the Whyte Wyrm, and set a dumpster ablaze.

“Safety initiative, my ass,” mutters Jughead, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “Archie, goddammit, pick up, someone’s gotta call these idiots off!”

Sweet Pea saw them, heard them yelling for Fangs. They’re set on their course, and Jughead’s afraid they won’t stop. Archie, for once, comes through, and really tries his best; but something horrible has got inside Reggie Mantle’s head, he says, and Archie’s scared Reggie doesn’t know how to stop any more.

If Betty’s right about her father, they’ve got to get him before the town falls even further into mob violence.

“I’ve got my dad’s credit card statements,” says Betty, as she, Jughead and Cheryl pull up in front of the Share BnB her dad lives in. “He’s been here the whole time. Maybe there’ll be something here that gives it away.”

Cheryl stands lookout as Betty picks the lock. She’s not exactly subtle, but she’s authoritative to send away anyone who questions why they’re there, at least in the short term.

Jughead and Betty search the room methodically, the way she and Jughead once tried to search Jason’s room. A Blossom still stands watch over them, but this time, she’s their ally.

“What’s this, Betty?” Cheryl asks. In her hands is a copy of the Nancy Drew handbook.

“Betty,” gasps Jughead.

“I know,” says Betty. How could she forget that her father had taken one of her favourite things from her childhood, and twisted it for the cypher, in the letters?

“My dad knew I was obsessed with this, growing up,” explains Betty dully, as Cheryl stares at the secret code page. “The Black Hood told me it was a cypher only I could solve.”

Cheryl looks up.

“Is it proof?” she asks softly.

Betty’s phone rings. It’s her dad.

“Hey, dad,” she says. “I’m at Pop’s, with Cheryl and Jughead. No, no, we’ll meet you at the debate.”

The debate is predictable. Hermione is all authority, points-scoring, claiming successes where they have been none. Fred is more measured, well-researched, and his points are more complex and well-thought out, rather than the buzzwords that Hermione employs.

Naturally, Hermione seems to be doing better. People who offer an illusory simple solution to a complex problem often do.

Jughead’s hand tightens in Betty’s grip.

“I can’t believe I’m still getting worked up about this,” he mutters, glancing at Hal, a few seats away, “but this debate is really pissing me off.”

Betty thinks she’d be pissed off too, if she could breathe. Jughead’s stroking her thumb, and she tries to zero in on that small sensation, let it ground her, as she tries to get her breathing under control.

Hermione points out that Archie formed the Dark Circle, a street vigilantism gang, and just as Fred tries to respond, there’s a yell from Veronica.

A bullet ricochets off Hermione’s podium, and a redheaded blur of yellow and blue knocks Fred down before he can be a target.

“It’s the Black Hood!”

And Hal sits beside them in the audience, as confused as everyone else.

Betty confronts her father. He points out that all of the evidence really is circumstantial, that he bought her the book as a present. He hugs her. Behind her, Jughead is silent and supportive.

“It’s him, Jug,” says Betty, as she watches her father leave the house. “I’m still sure.”

“Betty, no,” says Jughead. “You saw-”

“We saw a figure in a mask, taking misaimed potshots at a political candidate who scores points by claiming she’s a safe pair of hands,” says Betty. “You really think Hiram Lodge wouldn’t fake that?”

Jughead stares at her.

“I guess… I mean, I wouldn’t put it past him.”

He sits down heavily.

“Do you want it to be your father?” he asks. “Half this town wants it to be Fangs, so it can be over, and they can blame it on a convenient scapegoat. And I get that, for all I think it’s bullshit. But why are you so sure it’s Hal?”

“I don’t know,” says Betty, and she feels cold. “I don’t want it to be him, Jug. But with the way he’s treated you, my mom, Veronica… all that circumstantial evidence…”

Jughead tugs her down next to him.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he says softly. “I believe you, if you think it’s him.”

“I don’t want it to be him, Jug,” she says, shaking, and she buries her face in his neck. “I don’t want my dad to be a murderer. I don’t want him to have threatened Polly, or Veronica, or everything I’ve found with you.”

“I know, baby, I know.”

They sit there in the dark a little longer, Jughead’s soothing hand on the crown of her head.

“We have to call the Sheriff,” she says eventually, and her own voice is almost unrecognisable, thick and guttural from the tears.

Her phone goes as she reaches for it.

“It’s Cheryl."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what a ludicrously complex episode
> 
> why did betty still conclude hal was the murderer, and go and sit in the hall? it didn't make sense tbh. also the town hall should totally have still been a crime scene
> 
> and i loooooved investigative ally Cheryl, so i really wanted her included. my only quibble is that i think it was a bit harsh for betty to drag her in when Cheryl might be, yanno, traumatised by her own father being a murderer, but that's riverdale i guess!! and i wasn't going to not write one of my favourite Cheryl plotlines.
> 
> also i keep thinking about how in numerous shots until maybe the third series? maybe even later? it's clearly framed to make archie look taller than jughead, even in scenes where they're meant to be parallel with one another. it's only really funny to me because in bts and promo you can usually see that cole sprouse is a little taller than kj apa. like, it's fine, but it's funny.


	22. Judgement Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Riverdale descends in to chaos, and Hiram Lodge wants to reap the benefits.

_"It's me,"_ says Cheryl _. "The Black Hood just tried to kill me at Thistlehouse."_

Betty drops her phone, her hands shaking. Her heart thumps so painfully in her chest, she thinks it must burst at any moment.

"Are you okay?" she hears Jughead ask. "Cheryl, are you safe?"

 _"No, I'm calling you from beyond the grave,"_ says Cheryl coolly _. "He appeared at the door, mask-clad and axe-wielding, and attempted to cleave my head from my shoulders. Fortunately I was able to get to my bow and hunting cape, and I shot him in the shoulder."_

"You shot him," says Jughead disbelievingly.

 _"A non-lethal arrow."_ Cheryl sounds unimpressed _. "I'm a little underwhelmed, frankly. He put insultingly little effort into his attack. I've seen worse than him in the last few months."_

 _"C_ heryl," says Betty, finally regaining her breath, "lock the doors. Call the police. He... He's after you because-"

" _Astoundingly, cousin,"_ says Cheryl _. "All of that had already occurred to me."_

Her voice softens. 

" _Based on waistline alone, it could very well be your father, Betty,"_ she says gently. _"He's headed into the woods. And now he's wounded, he's acting on instinct. He'll hurt anyone who gets in his path. Including the people he loves._ "

Jughead's hands haven't left his thick hair since the call from Cheryl came through, gripping and tugging it anxiously. His eyes keep darting back and forth between the phone and Betty, and when Cheryl rings off, he grips Betty's hands tightly. 

"I got a text from Sweet Pea, too." His voice is harsh with fear. "Seems like a bunch of fights broke out across town, Southside and Northside. It's going to be really hard for the police to keep everything under control, if they even wanted to, Betty. Lodge has Minetta in his pocket. The Southsiders are scared because the police turned up to crack down on everyone. The North sides are scared because the Black Hood targeted the town hall. Betty, I don't know what we're going to do! I can't... I need you to be safe, from the fights... From the Hood, if he's your... Betty."

She trembles. Jughead is already half-crying with fear for everyone around them, but he holds her like he's about to lose her. 

Maybe she'll lose him, if her dad's the person who's been threatening him for months. 

"Jug," she says, hardly able to choke his name out. "It's my dad, Jug."

She doesn't deserve his comfort. She can't meet his eyes.

"No." 

Jughead's voice is stern. A gentle finger tips her chin up, and he fixes her with a gaze.

He doesn't need to say anything else. Instead, he pulls her into his arms, holding her as she jerks and weeps.

Alice is safe at the Register, trying to cover the fights, so they head there. Jughead glances at the safety of the station wagon, in case they need to beat a swift retreat, but figures that his bike will give them more manoeuvrability. Betty's red-faced, quiet; but she places his helmet gently on his head, and thumbs his cheek softly. 

He knows from Sweet Pea that a lot of the Southsiders are out in the town, getting in fights with the police and trying to defend themselves. He can't blame them. The police, by all accounts, have gone as mad - madder - than the rest of the people. They're inciting violence across the town, on Minetta's orders. 

Jughead wonders if he sees the hand of Hiram Lodge, reaching out to take advantage of the unrest. He fans the flames of violence, and intends to reap the reward when Hermione appears to restore order. 

It sickens him. His fingers, wrapped around the bike's handles, itch for a keyboard, to get his suspicions out via the last bit of free press left in Riverdale. 

When he gets there, he finds Hermione Lodge has beaten him to it. 

"I'm offering a million dollar reward to anyone who can catch the Black Hood, dead or alive," she says, and her mouth curves into a professional smile. "As a mayoral candidate, I feel it's important to take charge in times of crisis, like this riot, which has only happened because of an agitator like the Black Hood. I offer the bounty to calm the storm."

Jughead snorts with disgust. 

"There wouldn't be a riot if your pet militia wasn't attacking people!" he hisses. 

"Is a bounty even legal?" adds Betty, more subdued. "Surely it won't calm anything!"

Hermione smiles, patronising. Jughead wants to scream at her.

"The Black Hood is an active shooter on the streets of Riverdale," she says, and Jughead remembers when he used to think Veronica had a better time of it with parents than he did. "This is a very serious situation, which calls for very serious measures. The police on the Southside are just exercising their right to look for a criminal."

Betty's phone goes again, and she answers it as Jughead continues to try to argue against the brick wall of Hermione Lodge's opinions. Eventually, Jughead gives up. 

Betty's gone pale. 

"Cheryl tracked him into the woods," she says dully. "He might be headed home. That is, our house."

Jughead checks his own phone.

"There are a load of people sheltering at Pop's," he reads. "Archie's trying to keep the peace, but... Some of the kids from the South side are hiding from the cops there, and so are the Bulldogs."

He looks up at her. 

He doesn't want to say what he knows he needs to do. 

"You've got to go and help, haven't you?" says Betty quietly. 

"The Southsiders won't listen to Archie." Jughead's voice sounds thin to his own ears. Betty's eyes are still red, and her lips tremble. Her hands push into his, and he can feel the pressure of those blunt nails in his own skin. "Someone has to try, Betty."

"And it has to be you?" 

He can't stand it. 

"I... I think it does." He cups the back of her neck, presses his forehead against hers. It's hot, almost feverish. "Come with me. Don't go looking for your father. Let the police deal with it."

She shakes her head gently. 

"If I could get hold of Sheriff Keller..." she whispers, "but I can't even reach Kevin. If I can find my dad... Maybe I can..."

"It's not your responsibility," breathes Jughead. 

They head to Pop's together.

"Juggie!" calls Archie, even as Sweet Pea holler "Jones!" across the room. 

The air is tense, but it's not as bad as Jughead feared. Kevin's there, and Betty takes him aside. The sheriff's name drops from her lips, and Jughead breathes a sigh of relief, knowing that it's worked, that Betty won't go after her father in some awful, misguided attempt at atonement for her father's misdeeds. 

"Sweets," says Jughead, although he stands by Archie. "You okay?" 

"Yeah." Sweet Pea rubs a hand over his eyes. "Well, no. The cops and half your Bulldogs went crazy over on the Southside, and people... We've tried so hard, man, we've protested and we've tried every fucking avenue, and they still just... I got all the people here who wanted to get out of the fights, but I should be back there, man, I should be fighting."

Jughead thinks Sweet Pea has a point. 

" Sweet Pea."

It's Archie. Jughead's heart sinks. 

"I've been so wrong, bro." Archie sounds genuinely devasted. "I thought what Mr Lodge was saying was right. I really did. I was just... I was scared. I'm really sorry for everything I did. The Red Circle, the protest... All of it." 

Sweet Pea doesn't look less angry. 

"I got arrested," he says. "You came to the Southside and pointed a gun at me, and I got arrested."

Archie looks incredibly pained. 

"I don't have an excuse," he says. "I just wanted to catch the Black Hood."

"So do the cops tonight!" roars Sweet Pea. "Fangs is in the fucking hospital because the beat the shit out of him! We can't find Toni!" 

Archie's silent. 

"I'm sorry," he says again, finally. It's directed at all of the Southsiders, including Jughead. "I didn't understand." 

"We tried to explain it to you," mutters Jughead, "but you weren't listening."

Betty's crying, and Jughead would much rather be trying to comfort her. Kevin has his arm around her; the boy looks shell-shocked, but his phone is clasped to his ear. Hopefully he's got hold of Sheriff Keller, and maybe all of this can be over. 

Sweet Pea's shoulders slump. He looks exhausted. 

"Andrews," he says. "Andrews, these fuckers were always trying to put all of us down, both sides of Riverdale; but why did you have to listen when Lodge and the others told you it was our fault?" 

Jughead's phone buzzes. 

"Dad!" he says, horrified that he's barely thought of his father in all of this. "Dad, are you okay?" 

" _Yeah, I'm okay, boy, I'm at the hospital with Fangs, I'm just calling to check on you. Betty know her old man's in hospital? They just brought him in, all bleeding from one shoulder. I just wanted to check you and the Coopers weren't caught up in all of this."_

Jughead hangs up on his father without a second thought.

"Kevin!" he yells. "Hal Cooper's at Riverdale General!" 

Kevin understands instantly, and his phone's out less than a second later. 

But so is Betty, flying out of Pop's at full tilt. 

"Betty!" yelps Jughead, and he knew it, he fucking knew it, the Black Hood messed with Betty's head and she's going after him because she thinks he's her twisted responsibility, like it wasn't that sick fuck torturing his own teenage daughter.

It takes Jughead slightly too long to react. He has to squeeze past Moose, who looks dumbfounded, before he can even get to the door and run after Betty, and-

The headlights of at least thirty cars blind him as he gets outside. 

"Jones!" 

Sweet Pea grabs the back of his Sherpa, yanks him back inside.

"You don't understand!" Jughead begs, trying to wrestle out of the big Serpent's grasp. "Betty's going after the Black Hood, he'll hurt her, I have to-"

"Those are the fucking Ghoulies!" Sweet Pea's already hauled him in, and is grappling to pull anything he can in front of the door. "Andrews, help me!" 

"I have to help Betty!" 

"Trust me." Sweet Pea whirls to face him, as Moose takes over pushing a table in front of the door. "Right now, Cooper's safer than any of us are!" 

He can't know how wrong he is. 

Betty makes it to the hospital, her heart pounding. Last time she was here, it was for Archie's father. Now, it's for her own father. 

The Black Hood. The murderer.

"Hal Cooper!" she pants. "My father, was he brought in here?"

"Room 221!" answers a nurse. She's treating Dan, a kid Betty knows from the protests, for horrific bruising to the face. 

She doesn't have time to think about that now. If she doesn't stop her father, the police will never calm down. The fighting between the Northside and the South side may never stop. Hiram Lodge will work his way into power. 

She finds Room 221, and opens the door with palms slick with what she hopes is sweat. She can't even feel any more. 

It's not her father on the bed. Sweet, kind Dr Masters, who'd saved Fred's life, who she's know all her life, is lying there. His eyes are open. His throat is slit.

Her phone buzzes. 

" _We keep missing each other,_ " says that ridiculous disguised voice.

"Fuck you," she says, slumping against the wall. "Why did you kill Dr Masters? Fuck you!"

" _He was asking too many questions."_

"Oh, so you've dropped all pretensions to morality now?" spits Betty. "This isn't about sin, you're just any old fucking psychopath. You always were."

The voice - Hal - is silent for a moment. 

" _Come home,_ " he says eventually. " _We'll finish what we started_."

"Piss off."

" _Your mother's here_." 

Betty can't breathe. 

" _If you go to the police - if you aren't home in ten minutes - I'll slit her throat_."

Archie and Sweet Pea are silhouetted together, hurling Molotov cocktails from the roof of Pop's. Jughead gazes out of the windows below them at the relentless assault of the Ghoulies. 

Betty's phone is engaged, and he's scared he knows why. 

He barely notices when his father and Fred appear with Sheriff Keller, their sirens blaring loudly enough to scare the Ghoulies away. 

"You stay here," he hears his father saying to Sweet Pea. "Between the Ghoulies and Minetta's crew of rent-a-cops, the Southside isn't safe here. The rest of us are trying to fight, but..." 

_Sheriff Keller_. 

Jughead's back on his feet in an instant, finger pointed accusingly at Sheriff Keller.

"Why aren't you going after Hal Cooper?!" he demands. "Why aren't you at the hospital?"

Sheriff Keller glares at Jughead.

"Cooper's already gone," he says. "And I needed to make sure my son was safe, okay, Jughead? Your father did the same!" 

Jughead looks at FP, who gazes back at him unashamedly. Fred has his arm around Archie, who couldn't look happier to be reunited with his own father. 

But there's still Betty's father, out there, somewhere.

FP starts, reaches into his pocket, and pulls out his battered phone. 

"Penny," he spits. "What the fuck do you want?" 

Jughead watches as his father's face drains of blood. 

"Yeah," he says, and hangs up. "Sweets, with me! Peabody's holding Topaz hostage, says she wants to bargain."

"Wait!" says Jughead. Visions of a figure in a swirling red hunting cape, with deadly aim, appear in front of his eyes. "I need to call Cheryl."

He owes this to Cheryl.

Betty's already texted Kevin about her dad by the time she reaches her house. Alice is inside, and Betty can hardly bear how calm, how unaware she is. 

It doesn't last long. 

Her fucking dad sits there, explaining it all to them. He looks like his usual placid self, as he calmly tells them all about the murders his father and grandfather committed, the horrific morality he was raised with. Betty has few memories of Grandma Cooper, but she recognises the voice on the video that instructs young Hal on how to cover up his father's murders.

A car pulls up outside. She prays it's the police. 

"You shot Fred," she says, her eyes filling as she thinks of it. "Ms Grundy. Moose. Midge."

"I did," says Hal, sounding pleased. 

"But not at the debate, earlier." 

She and Jughead thought it might have been another of the Lodge's plays. 

"No," admits Hal. "Others have taken advantage of my work."

He spouts cod philosophy about taking up his father's sword. He looks lovingly at Betty. 

"Your speech at the jubilee inspired me," he says. "To force Riverdale to be better."

Her skin crawls. They way he looks at her... She wants to be sick. 

"Why are you recording all of this, Hal?" asks Alice. She's rigid with fear, and her eyes keep darting to the door. Betty knows, as Alice must, that if they make a run for it, Hal will almost certainly manage to kill one, if not both of them.

"So they know what happened, when they find us.". Hal smiles. "But we can all stay together this way." 

Betty swallows. In her mind's eye, she sees Jughead coming home, finding their bodies on the floor. She knows it might kill him too. 

She doesn't want to die. They deserved more time. Alice deserves more.

The rescue of Toni is surprisingly easy. 

Jughead has heard, repeatedly, of Penny Peabody. She's the Snake Charmer, the lawyer, the woman who got his dad out of jail, and ran the Serpents for months. 

It seems she's now running the Ghoulies. 

FP postures for a while.

"What do you want, Penny?" he demands. 

"Riverdale, Jonesy!" she says, and her tone is almost flirtatious. "There's money to be made here. I wanna run the Southside. You and the Serpents leave tonight, or, uh..."

She draws a finger across her neck. 

"I hear you've got some problems with the police." She laughs cruelly. "The Southside will burn to the ground."

"Now!" shouts Jughead, and Cheryl leaps to her feet, an arrow trained on Penny. Sweet Pea edges out of the shadows towards Malachi, the absurdly-dressed leader of the Ghoulies. 

"Is this your sweet son, FP?" Penny looks Jughead up and down. "You've been giving me a headache, lover boy, you and your ponytailed girlfriend and these baby snakes."

She gestures to where Sweet Pea is hurriedly cutting Toni free. 

"You got the evening, Jonesy and little Jones," she drawls. "Then I'm coming for some snakeskin."

She and Malachai slink away. Cheryl is chafing Toni's wrists, as Toni murmurs thanks and affections to her lover. 

It's a cruelty Jughead's considered before, that Cheryl should have fallen in love with a Serpent. He's tried to keep his father away from her, but he's scared that in asking for her help to rescue Toni, she's been reminded of yet more of her trauma. 

" _I don't care right now, Jughead_ ," she'd said, when he explained the situation to her. " _Toni means too much to me. Just keep your piece of shit father away from me_."

His father walks away first. Jughead thinks even FP is trying to spare Cheryl more pain.

And FP will let the Serpents go to war with the Ghoulies. 

And Betty's still out there somewhere. When he was scared for Toni, he felt guilty, because all he can think about is Betty. Yesterday morning, when they had sex, should he have intuitively known it might be their last time? Was there some way he could have been closer to her, showed her even more how he loved her?

She still isn't answering her phone. The riot is calming on the Southside, but the night is far from over, as he kicks his bike into gear, and heads to the Cooper house. 

The other Serpents peel away from him; Cheryl and Toni continue towards Thistlehouse. 

Behind him, headlights appear again. It's the Ghoulies. Jughead gulps, and races away.

"Mom!" Betty pleads. "Mom, don't antagonise him!" 

"You can't do anything for yourself, can you?" Alice taunts. Betty's mom won't go quietly, won't accept Hal's murder-suicide plan. "You can't do anything right, not even be a serial killer, you useless fuck! You're a sinner, Hal, you're a worthless bastard who never-"

Hal snarls, leaps forwards, and wraps his hands around Alice's throat. Betty's mom gasps, clutches at Betty's dad's forearms, and Betty's brain seems to detach. 

The shovel, she thinks. 

She doesn't even feel her body moving. She's conscious of her arms lifting the weight of the coal shovel, of swinging it up behind her, and bringing it down, but she feels none of it, like it's the air supply to her own brain that's being cut off, not Alice's.

 _Thud._

The reverberation jars up Betty's arms, and she can feel again, can think again, can breathe as Alice breathes and gasps for air, as Hal crumples to the floor.

 _I did it,_ she thinks. _It's over._

_My dad's a murderer. My dad tried to kill my mom. My dad wanted to kill me._

Outside, Sheriff Keller knocks on the door. 

Jughead crawls forwards. His mouth is full of blood; he bit his tongue when he came off the bike, when they ran him off the road. He thinks he's got away with fairly minor injuries from the accident, having manged to slow down enough for a soft landing on grass, not asphalt.

With the strange clarity of pain has come a bizarre realisation: this is not a coincidence. Penny worked with Hiram before, and the person who stands to make the most from the destruction of the young Serpents is Hiram. It makes sense to target Jughead: he's FP's son but not a Serpent, friends with Bulldogs but born a Southsider. His death will be symbolic.

He's called his dad, tried to gasp what's happening to him, but with all the other things going on in Riverdale tonight, he has little hope of a rescue. Keller has to be helping Betty. 

They'll find him any minute. He's in too much pain to run. 

His thumb is slippery with blood when he finds Betty's number. 

_"Jug!"_

"Betty," he says, and his voice is too loud, but one last conversation with her is too much to sacrifice for a few more minutes of life. He wants to pretend, just for a moment, that he's just a normal teenage kid calling his girlfriend.

"I'm so happy to hear your voice."

 _"You too, Jug, you have no idea_ -"

"I just wanted to say that I love you. I'll never stop loving you."

"Got him!" someone yells, and he winces. Hopefully he'll lose consciousness fairly quickly. 

_"Jughead..."_ His girlfriend is too clever. She definitely knows something is horribly wrong. _"I love you, I love you_ -" 

"I'll see you soon," he promises, and wishes that he was religious, wishes he had the hope of some kind of afterlife where he'd see her again.

Malachai looms over him, teeth white in that skeleton face. 

"Don't think we won't be coming for her next," he says, and his boot connects with Jughead's bruised ribs. 

Jughead screams. 

_"Juggie,"_ pleads Betty, " _don't leave me, please don't hurt him, I love you, Jug, I_ -" 

With his last flicker of consciousness, Jughead ends the call so she doesn't have to hear it. A punch to the head takes him out, and his last thought is of her. 

_I love you, Betty_. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My new laptop charger stopped working so MANY apologies for typos here


	23. Brave New World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jughead Jones is definitely dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GOT MY LAPTOP BACK I APOLOGISE FOR MY ABSENCE BUT ONLY ONE OF MY HANDS WORKS PROPERLY AND I CAN'T TYPE FOR FUCK ON A PHONE

Betty wears widows' weeds.

In Jughead's mind, she looks ethereal all in black. It's the same dress she wore to Jason's funeral, the first time he had hope that she might return something like his hopeless crush. Her eyes are glassy with tears, and her bare hand drips with blood as she strokes fingertips over his gravestone. Is she hurting herself, over her love for him? He never, never wanted that for her, even though he worries he wouldn't live through Betty's death. It would kill him.

"Come back to me, Jug," she pleads. She's so beautiful. Why does grief look good on her? Everything looks good on her. God, why did he have to die? He loves her. They were so happy.

"Our story's not over yet," she whispers, and he jerks awake, hands reaching to type an ending on the beautiful typewriter she gave him. 

"Fuck!" 

Every bit of him is in pain. His chest feels like it's on fire. He can only lift one of his arms - the other is in a sling, immobilised. He's grateful that he can't feel much of it.

One of his legs is suspended too. He whimpers, and tries to thrash before giving up, nearly sick with the agony. 

"Whoa, whoa, hey, Jug, boy!" 

FP lurches up out of his seat, his arms coming protectively round Jughead's shoulders.

Jughead flinches, unable to bear the soft weight of his father's hands on him. 

"Dad," he moans. "Dad, it hurts!" 

FP backs away instantly, his hands raised, looking horrified to have hurt his son even more. 

"God, Jug, I'm sorry," he says. "Doc? Doc!"

 _Betty_.

"Dad," says Jughead. "Dad, I have to get up, I have to see Betty."

His limbs aren't obeying him, and he can feel panic rising in his lungs, stopping his breathing.

It takes ten minutes and the appearance of a calm, competent nurse to get his breath working again. Each heaved choke agonises him.

FP stands and watches it all, his eyes wide with helplessness. A bit of Jughead wonders, maliciously, if FP ever thought his allegiance to the Serpents and Hiram Lodge would cost him this much.

But FP seems heartbroken; and Hiram Lodge was more to blame than anyone else. 

Finally, everything calms, and Jughead can take stock of his situation. He has a broken arm and narrowly avoided a broken leg, numerous cracked ribs and fractures in his fingers, and too many bruises to name. He wasn't breathing when they found him.

"Thought you were dead, Jug," says FP, and somehow Jughead's big, scary father is crying. "I really thought Penny and her gang of shits had killed my boy." 

"Evidently not," says Jughead, and his voice is so weak. It hurts to talk. Everything hurts, in fact; his lacerations from the crash and the beating seem to cover far too much of his skin. 

The Ghoulies, it seems, won their war against the Serpents, and now control their old 'turf'. That kind of pisses Jughead off; they'd spent so long trying to campaign for better treatment for the Southside, and now people were just giving up? 

"You'll be proud, boy," says FP. "People are down there every day, trying to rebuild and make sure the Ghoulies don't get too strong of a foothold. But... Sunnyside Park is gone. My trailer's still there, but a lot of people are homeless now. Gonna need to be a lot of reconstruction; and you know Lodge will have his finger in every pie he can manage."

"Ugh." Jughead's too tired and ill to comprehend any of that now.

"Nothing for you to do about it now," says FP softly. "Just... Get better, and be there for Betty." 

There was a time, a few days ago, when Betty thought that this would never happen again. Her hazy visions of a future were gone, and nothing but despair filled her chest.

She's been lying in her room, hopeless, for days, while Alice drinks and rages at herself. Every time she thought she could summon the energy to do something, anything, it hit her again. Go back to school and regain normalcy? No. Everyone would see her, see the girl whose father murdered Midge. She can't go to Pop's, where Hal tried to kill Fred. Everything felt pointless.

It got to the point where she hadn't showered in three days, and Cheryl, Toni and Veronica showed up at the house. 

"Cousin," said Cheryl kindly. "You reek. How will your death-defying boyfriend feel when he re-enters the world of the living to discover that his girlfriend resembles Swamp Thing?"

So she showered, and sat on the bed with the other girls to watch, of all things, _Chicago._

Toni was notably quiet. The destruction of the Serpents had been no small thing for her, but a lot of her respect for the gang had gone anyway. When Betty asked her about it, she looked pained, and asked if they could change the subject.

Betty didn't feel better, exactly, hanging out with the other girls, but she supposed she felt a little more human; less like a fragile collection of bones held together by fear and sadness.

The next night she gets a call. 

" _He's awake, Betty,"_ FP says roughly _. "He's not in great shape, but he's awake_."

And so she finds herself wrapped around Jughead's precious, damaged form, pressed against him where he can bear to be touched. One side took the brunt of the injuries, as he curled into a ball, so she's curled up on his other side, avoiding his sore ribs.

"I love you," she says, softly. His fingertips stroke her hair, and the dressings only catch the strands now and then. "Please don't do this to me again. I had to see them resuscitate you. I thought you were dead."

"Sorry," says Jughead, and his voice sounds amused, even thought it's thin and hoarse. "I'll try my best not to get murdered again."

 _Shithead,_ she thinks fondly, and presses a very soft kiss against the bit of chin that isn't covered by butterfly bandages. Even like this, he's the most beautiful thing in the world to her. 

"Betty, I'm so sorry," he says, and tries to prop himself up. "I'm sorry I went to help, I should have been there for you with your father-"

"Toni's life was in danger," Betty interrupts. "You did the right thing. Our friend is alive, I'm alive, even you're alive. I don't want to think about my dad, Jug. He's gone now. I never want to see him again. I only care about you, helping my mom, and trying to find some way to atone for what my father did."

Jughead nods slightly, as much as he can move his neck around the bruising. He won't patronise her by telling her that her desire to atone is wrong. He knows what it feels like. 

"Guess we won't be running for student council anymore," he whispers, and of course he's trying to make light of it. Betty's heart brims with joy that he's going to be okay. He's in pain, and it will take time to recover, but Penny did a crappy job of killing him.

"Guess not," she says, and kisses him, ever so gently, on the lip, before curling back around him. She tries to cling to this, and push thoughts of her father from her mind. 

The mayoral election continues apace, Veronica relays. She and Archie are Jughead's first visitors after Betty and Alice, and it's very strange to see them now that they oppose Hiram and Hermione completely. Of course, if neither of them had supported Veronica's parents in the first place, there's a chance that Sunnyside would never have been burned, and Jughead wouldn't have been beaten most of the way to death.

It's not a helpful thought. Jughead knows he should be concentrating on the positives of this situation, not Archie and Veronica's former allegiance. He can sort his feelings out on that later.

"My mother is doing an Eva Peron-like whistlestop tour of Riverdale." Veronica looks tired and Jughead doesn't have the heart to criticise her analogy, just shares a look with Betty.

"How are you doing, Juggie?" asks Archie, changing the subject from Hermione's political machinations. He looks sincere. Jughead wants to hope it's honest, even though he remembers so many times before when Archie let him down. Most recently, he remembers a smack to his back, shoving him away from Southside High.

But maybe Archie's seen Hiram's true colours now. 

"Honestly, Arch, I'm... straight up not having a good time, bro," he snarks, and gestures to his broken body. Betty makes a wordless noise of protest, and her grip tightens on him.

"Juggie," says Archie, gesturing helplessly. "I'm... I'm sorry, man." 

"Me too," says Veronica stiffly, and while Jughead resents her for her manipulations, he can understand being misled by a charismatic parent. Archie's father is perhaps the best of all of their parents, and yet Archie chose to ignore Fred. 

"Don't worry right now," replies Jughead. "In the meantime, what can we do?" 

There were two Black Hoods that night. There was one, awful one, settled in Betty's house and threatening her and Alice, and Jughead clutches Betty close to him. He's tried never to think of her as fragile, as a damsel in distress who needed protection, but she keeps curling into herself, looking smaller and more injured as they discuss the Black Hood. Her hand creeps closer into his, and he runs his thumb along ridged, fresh scar tissue from her nails.

He can't bear it, and despite the ache in his broken arm, he holds both her hands, pulls her even closer as if he could take her pain away. He hurts enough as it is; what's a little more? 

"To me," he says, as Betty snuggles into him unconsciously, "the second Hood's attacks show a political motive. That suggests to me that it's-"

"Something to do with my dad," concludes Veronica bitterly. "You'll get no argument from me there. And once he and my mom have control of the mayor's office-"

"They'll be unstoppable," says Archie. He looks horrendously guilty.

 _Good_ , thinks Jughead bitterly. He knows it's cruel, he knows Archie went through trauma and Hiram Lodge is a predator who knows exactly how to manipulate scared people, but... _Jesus fuck, Archie, we all said to get help, me, Betty, your dad, Veronica, even fucking Reggie!_

And now Archie's helped to put Hiram Lodge in this position of power.

"So it's obviously not Hiram himself pulling the trigger," says Betty, without raising her head from its delicate perch on Jughead's chest. "Do we think... it's a Serpent? A Ghoulie?"

Jughead wonders if it couldn't be the new deputy himself, Minetta. The cop is in Hiram's pocket. He'd know how to fire like that, and Jughead...

Jughead doesn't trust a single cop.

He strokes the soft skin of Betty's hand. She glances up at him, and presses a kiss to his chest. Veronica and Archie, miraculously, take that as their cue to leave.

Back at the Cooper house, Betty finds Alice on the doorstep, incandescent with rage. There are people all over the front lawn, gawping at the sight of the house where the Black Hood lived, where he planned his crimes and tried to kill his own family.

"We lived next to you for ten years, and none of you had any fucking idea either!" Alice slurs. She points a trembling finger at Mrs Ross, one of the most notorious busybodies in the road. "You, June, you delighted in telling that Hal was sleeping with Penelope and I didn't know, did you notice that that bastard was a fucking murderer either? No! Fuck you! And you!" An old man meets her ire. "You were so worried at church, that I was letting a Serpent into my house? Looking after a boy who had no home? Fuck all of you! Tell you what, why don't you all come in and have a good fucking stare, you bunch of hypocritical shits! You disgust me!"

Betty can't tell if Alice is drunk, or just losing it in her grief and rage. She wraps her arm around her mother's shoulders, and turns to face the others angrily.

"Go home," she spits. "Go home, all of you! Why can't you just leave us alone?!"

The neighbours disperse gradually. Some of them look shamed. Mrs Ross holds her head high, apparently defensive and feeling she has nothing to be sorry for. Well, fine. Let her think that.

Betty steers Alice inside, and closes the door gently.

Alice slumps on to the sofa, her hand over her eyes.

"I've made so many mistakes, Betty," she says. Her voice is choked. It's horror and pain, not alcohol, and Betty's shamefully relieved. She's seen what FP's addictions have put Jughead through, and she can admit to herself that she couldn't bear it if Alice went the same way.

"Mom," says Betty, and she sits alongside Alice, taking her hand. "Mom, none of this is your fault."

Alice sighs.

"You and Jughead are depending on me," she says, exhausted. "I need to look after you. I've done the worst job of this."

"You haven't," Betty swears, and to her surprise, she really means it. "And Mom... Mom, Jughead's coming home tomorrow."

Alice smiles at her weakly, and bursts into tears.

It's a horrendous thing to get Jughead up into Betty's room.

It's the most realistic option. Medical bills are ruinous, and Jughead will be better at home. He'll have Betty and Alice to help him, Fred and Archie next door, and even his dad has offered to stay for a while, until they can get some kind of routine for his care. Betty's room is the best option; there's a bed where he can keep his leg up, and it'll be far easier for him to stay clean with the bathroom in there.

But it's so hard to get him up there, even with Fred, Archie and FP all helping. Alice is fussing around, trying to supervise, and Betty is waiting at the top of the stairs, hands outstretched. It's not realistic to keep his lanky frame on the sofa in the living room, and once he's up there, he'll be okay.

There's a lot of swearing, especially getting him round the corner. He can only stand on one leg, and his broken arm and ribs won't take much supporting.

They get him up there, and Betty holds his growing hair back as he pukes into a basin. She tangles her fingers in his dark locks, caressing and gripping until he stops heaving, and his breathing evens. He leans back on to the pillows, his face grey, and she remembers, with horrible clarity, the stillness of his features when they found him lying in the woods.

"You shouldn't be looking after me," he whispers, raising a trembling hand to cup her cheek, and she tries not to wince at the feel of his poor abraded fingers on her skin. "You've been through so much."

"I don't care." Betty rolls her eyes at his martyrdom. "It's not like I can go to school. I'm staying her until the neighbours leave my mom alone."

"I love you," says Jughead. "You're so... God, I love you."

"I love you too." Betty kisses his palm. He's really here, still safe in her bed, and at least her father didn't take this from her as well. She's not sure she could have survived that.

Her phone buzzes.

"Archie's identified my dad," she says bleakly, reading the texts, leaning further into Jughead's palm. "Apparently he's been trying to threaten Minetta and Lodge."

Jughead rolls his eyes, and then winces.

"Of course he is," he replies wearily. "Betty, we can't let him go that far again. We've got to make sure he gets help this time."

He coughs, and Betty sees agony in his eyes.

"Do you need a painkiller, Jug?" she asks.

Jughead won't meet her eyes.

"Jug."

"I'm not taking them."

He's still grey with pain, and he's refusing to take his meds? Why...

Oh.

"Because..."

"My dad's an alcoholic, Betty," he says queasily. "There's a genetic component to addiction. I'm not going to come back from the dead only to get addicted to painkillers. I'm just- I'm not."

He's scared, and in pain. There's nothing she can do to help, but be there as much as possible.

A few hours later, Jughead's fallen into what looks like a good sleep, and Betty heads over to the Andrews' house.

"I don't know where to start, Mr Andrews," she says, perched uncomfortably at the table that she spent so many hours at as a child, feeling like an imposter. "I'm just- I'm so sorry, that my dad-"

"Betty," Fred interrupts gently, and she can barely see him through her tears. "None of this is your fault. Hell, how could you even be worried I'd blame you? You're a kid. A bright, talented, inquisitive kid, but a kid who had nothing to do with the crimes someone else committed."

"But I could have realised sooner," Betty protests, and she's crying in earnest now. Fred is such a good dad, sometimes a better dad to her and Jughead than their own fathers, and Hal wanted to remove him from the world. "I'm supposed to be this great detective, and I just- I couldn't see what was right in front of me, and now people have paid for that mistake with their lives."

Fred tries to comfort her further, wraps her in a hug, and it does feel good. It really does. She owes him at least something.

"Mr Andrews," she says, pulling away. "I need to talk to you about Archie."

The world continues apace. Betty gets hourly updates from Cheryl on the progress of her emancipation, reading the vitriolic texts to Jughead, who feels a pain in his chest as he chuckles at Cheryl's relentless demolition of Penelope. His own texts are more miserable, as Toni, Sweet Pea and Fangs update him on the government's decision to bus the former Southsiders to Seaside High.

In particular, Toni's texts are despondent.

 _They're blaming the riots on us,_ she texts. _The violence was started by the police, not us. The worst people at the protests were Northsiders coming in to join the violence, not us. All we did was try to defend ourselves, our community. Why the fuck are we being punished for this_?

To Betty, she texts, _I don't want to leave Cheryl. We only just found each other_.

It isn't just her. The Southsiders have made friends, joined clubs, just started to settle in to life at Riverdale High. They're proud of the Southside, not willing to assimilate, but wanting the same opportunities that the Northsiders have always had. Now, they're being sent away.

The Serpents are basically gone. A few of them are in hiding at the Wyrm.

Archie and Veronica text their own updates. Josie and Reggie have dropped out of the student council election (is anyone still thinking about that? Jughead knows he and Betty aren't, hidden at home from the eyes of their fellow students), leaving only Archie and Ethel in the race.

Jughead's personal vote is for Ethel. He wants Archie to get better, surely, but he's not sure he and Betty will ever trust their friends again. Too much damage was done before either Veronica or Archie saw the light.

The worst news is that Cheryl caught Hiram and Penelope, along with Penny and Claudius, holding a meeting in one of the barns at Thornhill. No-one accepts Hiram's claim that he wants to get into the maple syrup business.

They're all worried. It makes Jughead's pain worse, makes it harder to relax, makes Betty snap at him for tensing and hurting himself, and they bicker, until they both agree to turn their phones off, and snuggle into the cosiest heap they can manage without exacerbating things.

Archie and Veronica make another appearance that evening, sitting gingerly on the end of Betty's bed.

"You should come back to school, Betty," says Veronica gently.

"How can I?" asks Betty, and Jughead hates the loathing in her voice. "My dad killed Midge. He tried to kill Moose. I don't think I can ever show my face again."

She turns to Archie, and her body is so rigid with discomfort under Jughead's arm, he can physically feel her discomfort. 

"Do you hate my father, Arch?" she asks, and she's shaking slightly. "Do you hate me, for my father trying to kill yours?"

Archie's silent for a moment, and Jughead wonders if breaking his other hand would be worth punching him.

"Of course not," says Archie finally, and his voice is totally decided. "I could never."

"We could never," says Veronica.

FP appears, suggests that he and Jughead leave for Toledo, for Jellybean and Gladys.

He's been drinking.

"I'm not leaving Betty," snaps Jughead, and it isn't even a choice for him. He loves JB, wants to see her desperately (he's pretty ambivalent about Gladys), but there's not even a chance now that he'd leave, not Betty while she needs support and love, and not Alice, in fact.

FP scowls. 

"I'm going," he says. "And the Ghoulies won't stop, Jug. You know they won't."

"So we'll stop them," retorts Jughead. "The Serpents aren't the only part of the Southside. It's not fair to abandon the Southside to Hiram Lodge. People live there, Dad, real people, not just some biker gang who used to get paid to trash the rest of the town!"

FP looks pissed.

"You're too brave for your own good, boy," he says. "How do you think Betty's going to feel when they're scraping you off the floor, huh? When you're the one getting called to identify her body?"

Jughead scowls.

"Get out, Dad," he spits. "Come back when you're not drunk, okay?"

FP leaves. Betty appears, her face sheepish.

"I didn't go downstairs," she admits, creeping into the bed next to him. She's been clingy; he doesn't blame her. If more than one of his arms worked, he'd be wrapped around her like a baby monkey. "I-"

"You could smell the booze," Jughead says, rubbing his good hand over his face. "The Serpents have made him a mess, Betty. They were his life."

Betty sighs, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Don't leave me," she says pathetically.

"As if," snorts Jughead. "I mean for a start, I literally can't leave your bed right now."

"Jug."

"No." He kisses the top of her head. "There's pretty much nothing in the world I want more than being here with you."

The election is in two days. Betty considers leafleting and canvassing for Fred's campaign, but she can only imagine what the Black Hood's daughter turning up on doorsteps will do for Fred's campaign.

Cheryl and Toni's presence, oddly enough, seems to have got people talking. They've been leafleting for days, trying their best to see if the remnants of their protest for the Southside can gain traction through conventional political means.

Sweet Pea and Fangs didn't volunteer.

 _It won't work,_ Sweet Pea texted. _Lodge is gonna win, no doubt._

Gerald Petite, that same giant Serpent who'd worked with Penny, who'd turned up the first time to interrupt Betty and Jughead when he was _devouring_ her in the trailer, is outed as the second Black Hood - according to Minetta. He got involved in a shootout with the cops -according to Minetta. Sadly, the police were forced to shoot him - according to Minetta.

"Did you believe him?" asks Betty.

" _Fuck, no,"_ says Archie.

An awful lot is happening around them. Jughead seems frustrated, trapped in bed, currently unable to move, and he types frenetically, one-handed, on their news website. Betty knows she can't do much to help him, but has to put her foot down when he tries to use his broken arm.

"Don't be an idiot," she says, and lifts his hand away. Jughead scowls at her. "Baby, I know you're angry, and you're trying to help, but the first thing you need to do is get better."

"I just-"

Jughead runs his hand through his greasy hair.

"I just feel so useless," he admits. "I'm stuck here. I can't help Fred, I can't help the Southside, I can't even help you!"

"You can," she says. "You can help me by getting better. Please. It can be my early birthday present."

She'll be sixteen soon. When she turned fifteen, she was a nervy, uncomfortable, naïve person with a horrendous crush on Archie, who hated Cheryl Blossom, who had two emotionally repressed parents and an older sister who was always held up to her as an example of the perfection she should strive towards.

She's not that person anymore. None of those things are true, and she's not sure they ever were.

Well, she really did hate Cheryl.

Alice is crying, but for once, it's happy tears, as Polly sits at the kitchen table. The twins are in their baskets, sleeping soundly, and Betty wonders idly if they will have the Blossom red hair, or Cooper blond. Then again, the Coopers are just blond Blossoms, apparently, so the Punnett squares are going to be a mess either way.

"I can't believe you haven't been to see Dad yet," says Polly calmly, as if visiting a multiple murderer in prison was an every day occurrence, as if Hal hadn't been cruel to her even before starting down his horrific path.

"Uh," says Betty uncomfortably. "We're just trying to take things one step at a time, you know? With Jug, and everything, I haven't really felt-"

"How are you meant to forgive him if you won't visit him?" Polly's eyes sparkle with enthusiasm. "At the Farm, we're taught that the most valuable gift we can give is forgiveness. If we don't absolve him, we'll become like him, full of hate in our hearts. My babies deserve a mother that's better than that. And a grandmother, and an aunt."

Well, isn't that some nonsense?

Before all of this, before Jason's murder and the Farm, Polly would never have seen things like this. Polly was always the more openly emotional sister, always flying off the handle and willing to stand up to their parents. The Farm has made her calmer, truly, but Betty's skin prickles as she hears Polly talk about it. She and Jughead both think it sounds... exploitative. Sinister.

"Maybe you're right," says Alice, and Betty's head shoots up, looking at Alice in fear. "Maybe I should see him. Even if it's just to give him a piece of my fucking mind."

Well, that's more like it.

"I have no interest in seeing him," Betty says, her voice cooler than she feels, and leaves the room.

Cheryl calls them in a panic.

" _That idiot Andrews and I are at the Whyte Wyrm_ ," she says, her voice harsh as she pants on the phone. " _We need somewhere for them to go! My repulsive former mother summoned some spark of empathy from somewhere, and told me not to come here!_ "

"Why not?"

" _The police are heading over to make 'arrests' from the riots,_ " says Cheryl, and she yells at someone to leave everything unimportant behind. " _If they meet resistance, and they're forced to open fire... so much the better, Jones, fuck, they want the last Serpents dead!"_

Jughead's fractured bones ache.

"Have you got time to get out of there?" he asks. In the background, he can hear Archie, calling various people bro and offering help. He misses this Archie.

 _"Where can they go_?" demands Cheryl. " _I think we can make it, we've got the cover of darkness, but_ -"

" _My dad,_ " says Archie audibly. _"Can you call him? Let him know we're going to have a few house guests."_

A few hours later, the Andrews house is teaming with life. There are Serpents crashed out everywhere, crestfallen Bulldogs pulling together makeshift beds and food supplies. It's a far cry from the bitter hatred that affected them all before. Something has changed in the town, after the riots. It isn't peaceful, exactly, but there's an odd new sense of cooperation, together, against people like Hiram Lodge and Sheriff Minetta. Reggie Mantle is heaving bottles of water about, exchanging good-natured insults with Sweet Pea. Jughead watches it all from the window seat, Betty perched alongside him. She's excited, but she can't bear to go down there yet, to stand among her friends knowing that her father helped to nearly destroy the town. Jughead shouts weak encouragements down from the window seat.

Cheryl and Toni reign over it all, hands entwined.

"I've drawn up plans to start the renovations at Thornhill, so people will have a place to stay in the winter if there's no new housing yet," says Cheryl. "Eventually, I mean to make it a community asset. Thornhill was built on the oppression of the people here. It's only right that they have a say in what happens to the place."

"You'll need construction workers," suggests FP. "There's a lot of people here with those skills, and they could use the work. Although I think Freddie might be a bit busy running Riverdale to be in charge of the building projects, huh?"

He claps Fred on the shoulder, and this time, it genuinely looks like friendship, not that pained performance that the two men gave the day that Archie found out Jughead was homeless. 

Wetherbee cancels the Southsiders' transfer. Veronica buys the Whyte Wyrm, and exchanges it for Pop's in quick succession. Hiram owns another bit of the Southside, but they've managed to claw back another bit of the town. Who wants the Whyte Wyrm now, anyway? It's prowled by Penny Peabody and her Ghoulie minions. The Southsiders have better things to try to salvage.

Polly dumps a beautiful baby on Jughead's chest, and Juniper drools at him gently, making some soft burbling noises. She's still so small that her little body doesn't hurt his ribs at all, and his arm comes around her automatically. Betty's niece, Jason's daughter, wraps chubby fingers around his, and he's transfixed. 

Betty appears at the door, Dagwood's stiff limbs splaying from her arms. Jughead's girlfriend looks tearful, her face pink.

"Mom and I are going to visit Dad," says Polly authoritatively. "Betty says she isn't coming, so you and she can look after the babies."

She whirls out of the room with a flourish of her 1970s hippy mum outfit. Betty stares after her sister, and sighs.

"Do you believe evil can be passed down, Jug?" she asks, coming to sit on the bed. Dagwood flaps a little in her arms, bouncing enthusiastically when he sees his sister, who blinks at him placidly. Jughead's grateful that she doesn't drum her tiny feet on his healing ribs.

"What do you mean?" asks Jughead. Juniper's heartbeat thrums against him.

"My great-grandfather, grandfather and father were all terrible people," says Betty, and her lip trembles. "They were all evil, murderers."

"That's circumstantial," says Jughead, trying to prop himself up without dislodging Juniper. "They were raised that way. That's nurture, not nature."

"Am I evil?" asks Betty, and she's almost talking to herself. "Is this baby pre-destined to be evil?"

"Well, that's easy," says Jughead. "No. You're not evil. You might have some horrible thoughts, just like me, just like all of us, but you're not evil, Betty, you're so far from evil. And admittedly, since it was all the men who were evil, I think you're definitely holding the evil twin- There's always an evil twin, trust me, Betty - but that's ridiculous. Nothing can be inherited like that. We're what our parents and our friends make us. There's no such thing as destiny or pure evil or genetically inherited evil. Anyone who says so is a fucking idiot, and you already know that you aren't."

Betty giggles, and he cups her damp cheek, stroking his thumb across her skin. He's not lying - except maybe about the evil twin thing - and he really hopes that she can believe him. There's nothing evil about Betty, or the sweet children gurgling in their arms.

Election day dawns, bright and sweltering. The polls open, and Archie and Veronica disappear for the whole day, last-minute canvassing and encouraging.

"Do you think Fred can win?" asks Jughead, as Alice helps Betty with the sheets. Alice sighs.

"He can," she says bitterly, "But he won't."

"I remember the day Trump was elected," says Betty bitterly. "I didn't believe he could win."

Alice remains silent, and Jughead can't tell if she agrees or disagrees with Betty's vitriol. Hal struck him as the epitome of a white middle-class conservative, but Alice has a lot more going on.

The school election seems laughably pathetic by comparison to the mayoral election, and everyone's behaviour reflects that. No-one is asking whether Archie or Ethel will win the election, because everything will change if Hermione Lodge becomes the Mayor, and continues her family's plot.

Betty asks Jughead if he thinks she should see her father.

"I do," he says, stroking her brow gently, "and I don't. My father belonged in prison - still belongs in prison, if we're being fair - and so does yours. It won't make you feel better to see him, it's a horrible place, but it might help you come to terms with it all."

In the end, Betty does mention him. It's bizarre, to see her boring, petit bourgeois father locked up in high security, but he seems placid. Content. Obscurely pleased with himself.

"I knew you would come," he says. "You're the only person who understands, Betty. You and I are kindred spirits. You're just like me."

Betty thinks of her innocent nephew and niece, and that strange little boy on the videotape, being moulded into madness by his equally mad mother. She thinks of Cheryl, raised by equally insane parents, who burns with fire and hatred, but is learning to control it, to face it, to turn her ire on those who deserve it. 

Biology is not destiny. There is no such thing.

"I'm nothing like you," she retorts, and for the first time, she believes it. "You did evil, horrible things. I'm not like that. And I never will be."

"So why did you come?"

Hal's always been calm. There have been very few occasions on which Betty's seen him lose his temper, which was why she always used to turn to him, rather than Alice, for affection. Even during the height of his murder attempts, Hal stayed calm, for the most part.

He's calm now, staring patronisingly at Betty, as if he's just waiting for her to realise the truth. Betty's already realised the truth.

"I came to say goodbye," she says, "and to say no more darkness, no more evil. It's over."

That breaks Hal's cool. He leaps to his feet, spitting nonsense about how she'll be back, how it's only a matter of time; but Betty leaves, his words falling on deaf ears. At home, Jughead and Alice, and Polly and the twins, are waiting. There is work to be done with Toni, the Southsiders, Cheryl. Archie and Veronica, even, might be her friends again.

What does Hal mean, against all of that?

Ethel wins the school election. She's shy, but she's brave, and competent. People remember her standing up when they took down Chuck. They remember Archie's stupid vigilantism just as well.

Archie takes the loss with good grace, admitting that he isn't exactly cut out for politics.

"Juggie," he says, after the girls have gone downstairs to get more snacks. "I've been an idiot. I'm sorry."

"You have," says Jughead, not feeling any need to assuage Archie's conscience. "You joined the mafia, dickhead."

"I know," says Archie. "I just... after everything, after Grundy, and my dad getting shot, and everything... I felt so powerless, you know? I felt like there was nothing I could do to make anything better, and... Everything I did just made it worse."

"Kinda did."

Jughead can almost put his weight on one leg now, but the pain from his Lodge-sponsored beating will affect him for weeks, months. Archie contributed to all of that.

"I just-" Archie sighs. He's never been the best with words, and apparently they're failing him now. "I thought Mr Lodge was offering me the chance to do right."

"He really wasn't."

"I know that now."

"Some of us knew that then."

Archie sighs.

"I'm gonna make it right, bro." He rubs his hand behind his neck. "Somehow, I will. I promise."

"Archie." Jughead sits up further, scowling. "The best thing you could do is listen to your dad. Don't pick some easy, simple, violent solution. Listen to your friends. Go and get some help. Please. There's no shame in it, I'm going to get therapy, as well as physical therapy, Betty - Cheryl's already trying to help Betty get therapy. Honestly, it's the best possible thing to do."

Archie stands up, nods slowly, and heads for the door.

"Archie!" calls Jughead. "You were listening, right? Archie?"

The next person to visit them is Toni, her face grave. Archie and Veronica have departed to console Fred for an election night party, visibly supporting him against Veronica's parents. Sweet Pea and Fangs, oddly enough, have elected to hang out there as well. 

"We're leaving the Serpents," says Toni abruptly. "Me, Sweets, Fangs, all the others. It's over. It shouldn't have carried on as long as it did. It felt like home, but... the Serpent dance? The misogynist culture? All that toxic masculinity? We're done, I think."

"That's huge, Toni," says Betty. She wonders how she'd feel in her place, but then again, her own worldview has taken some pretty hard knocks lately.

Toni sighs, and sits down.

"I've never known life without the Serpents," she says. "But now it just feels... minor, by comparison to everything else? And Cheryl? I can't stay in the Serpents, with what-"

"With what my dad did to Jason Blossom," Jughead fills in. "Toni, you know how I feel, and you know I can't tell you and the guys what to do."

"It doesn't really matter, anyway," says Toni. "The boys are more leaving because the Serpents are falling apart. If the Lodges win, the first people they'll come for are the Serpents. They took the Southside from us, so we've got to make a stand from the Northside. Ugh, just saying that makes my mouth feel gross. But Sweets, he's got a chance for a sports scholarship, and Fangs is getting real interested in the drama department. Plus there's always the website. The Serpents... it feels like a logical ending. It's gonna suck."

But she's right. A lot of things will end today, for better or worse.

Betty tells Alice about the trip to the prison, and Alice cries.

"I'm so proud of you, baby," she says, stroking Betty's hair as they hug. "We're going to get through this. I promise."

The news comes in at midnight that Fred won.

Archie and Veronica send a succession of elated texts, and then disappear into a drunken party. Jughead watches it from the window seat, sees Sweet Pea and Fangs doing shirtless victory laps along Elm Street, sees Archie jubilantly swinging Veronica off her feet. 

Oddly, it seems that the Southside vote had increased massively, and gave Fred a narrow edge over the Lodges.

 _It's a start_ , Betty thinks, and realises that she wants to go back to school on Monday.

Much later, after the party's wound down, Betty finds herself perched on her boyfriends' hips, her hands wound in his thick hair, grinding desperately against the hardness she can feel pressing against her.

"Uh, uh," she says, as he sucks at her pulse point. "You're injured, oh my god, this is a terrible idea, we can't have sex, baby, we can't."

"We can," he whispers. "I feel good, Betty, and it's not like they fractured my pelvis."

"You are not strong enough," she says, and his good hand spanks her as if to make a point. She quivers delightedly from the sting.

"Is there some special occasion that heralds this?" she gasps. 

"No, I just thought this could be something we _might_ enjoy," he says mildly, and tries to pull at her pyjama shorts. "Even if we don't have, y'know, I just want to- this is so weird, Betty, I nearly died and I just, I want to fuck you so bad."

In the end, he's pretty persuasive (not that Betty takes much persuading, despite her fears that they'll hurt him). His hands... he's _very_ good with his hands, crooking those long fingers inside her and circling her clit until she's whimpering, until she's so wet that her trembling hands can barely get him inside her.

It doesn't take either of them long to come. Jughead falls asleep almost immediately afterwards, and she lies beside him, gazing at his beloved profile until she, too, drifts off into a peaceful sleep. She's confronted her father; they've stopped the Lodge's political campaign. Jughead is recovering. Maybe this really is the turning point in their fortunes.

She doesn't remember her dreams, but she thinks they're good.

The next day, she wheels a defiant Jughead into school for Ethel's inauguration.

They all watch as Deputy Minetta cuffs Archie, and hauls him off, charged with murder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> would people like series 3? or is this a logical point to end?
> 
> anyway I think i'm slightly getting over my riverdale fannishness. it all just seems a bit pointless at the moment, and the inherent racism, sexism, homophobia and portrayal of mental illness in the script is kind of getting to me much more after everything that's been going on in the world. I don't know if I'll be back for season 5 tbh, because despite RAS' too little too late apology to vanessa, despite what lili passed on in the live with asha (and i love lili but frankly a. ras is a man who shouldn't have written this shit in the first place so no-one should be remotely proud of him and b. i'll fucking believe it when i see it), riverdale has horrendously dodgy tropes and i really doubt it will end with someone as uncreative as the abysmal ted man at the helm.
> 
> i hate the cheating but it's really the least of the show's problems.


	24. An Epilogue, of Sorts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end of a few things, and the beginnings of others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i make no pretensions to knowing what i'm talking about

She and Cheryl go on different days.

It strikes her, now and then, how much she and her cousin have in common these days. They mean to keep fighting Hiram Lodge, to make sure he won't have control of Riverdale. They both rage against domineering mothers, although Cheryl is emancipated from Penelope, while Alice gives Betty new freedoms and understandings. They are both terrifyingly, embarrassingly in love with Southsiders who've rejected the Serpents, and who lead the fight against Lodge.

Both of their fathers, first cousins, are murderers.

Cheryl rejected a few therapists before she found one that she clicked with. It gives her scope to recommend a few numbers to Betty. After all, both of them have the money to shop around these days.

Betty hates that she has that money. It bleeds in her mind, ill-gotten gains of an exploitative great-great-grandfather's ventures.

But Dr Glass talks to her like she's a person, like she understands her. It's almost the same as what she gets from Jughead, except in this one thing, she can't trust Jughead, because Jughead is so embarrassingly in love with her that he's blind to her worst parts.

("I'm not," he whispered into her ear one night as she straddled his lap, his kisses sliding up her spine. "I'm not blind to your worst parts. I see them, and I love you, because you're better than any of that.")

"Am I too co-dependent?" she asks Dr Glass once, when they're talking about her relationship. "I'm just sixteen, and I sleep in a bed with my boyfriend. We've been through so much together. Are we doomed to fail? Should I be further away from him?"

Dr Glass doesn't have concrete answers, only conversations that Betty can't have with her mother, with Jughead, even with Cheryl.

So she tries to take that on board, and does more social things where it's not just her and Jughead. She and Cheryl are more than tentative friends these days, sitting and talking through their families together, and finding common ground where Betty could never have imagined that there would be any. Betty and Toni are maybe even better friends, joshing each other as they work on the news website, spending long days where Cheryl and Jughead bicker at the quarry with the ex-Serpents.

She spends time with Veronica, although the days of their easy friendship are long gone. Hiram Lodge's manipulations left deep scars; Veronica treads on eggshells around Betty and Jughead and the Southsiders, and Betty finds it impossible to let go of the last bits of her resentment at Veronica's swift fall into her father's path.

It's the same with Archie and Jughead, Jughead admits to her, late one night as they curl around one another. Betty wonders if it's worse, as Archie was one of Jughead's only childhood tethers to normality, and Archie repeatedly cast that friendship aside like so much garbage. At least Veronica was fairly new, always flaky, tricked by her _own_ father, not her partner's. The betrayal is not as deep and cutting.

Jughead has his own therapist, court-mandated and acerbic. It's a better fit than Betty could have hoped for when Mrs Weiss first brought them the news.

FP is still lurking on the Southside, in the lone trailer still standing. Betty's been there once or twice, on visits with Jughead and Alice. In the summer, the trailer has the hot, sticky, damp sensation of never really cooling down enough, and Betty hates thinking of Jughead here in summers before, alone, sweltering and sweating and feeing isolated in his grief over the disintegration of his family.

Last summer, he lived on the streets. This summer, his long limbs are wrapped around her when she wakes up, and if she's overheated sometimes, she's never been so grateful for discomfort. Most of the time she just burrows into her personal space heater, relieved that he's alive and well enough to boil them both.

Archie's court case rolls on, but she's taken a step back from her internship, once Dr Glass worried that she was becoming too embroiled. One day, she found herself staring at her old Ritalin prescription. It's the relic of a bygone time, a bygone Alice and a bygone Betty.

She was tempted to take it, to slow down the voices screaming in her head. Instead, she flushed the pills down the loo, unwilling to fall prey to this old demon of hers.

She cuts back her internship hours, and gets a job working a few hours a week in a garage on the Southside, while Jughead writes in the library five minutes away, and the ex-Serpents work for Andrews Construction (not Toni; she gets a few photography gigs round the town, although Cheryl is her favourite subject).

The Riverdale Register is in new, Lodge-hired hands. Alice is looking for a new job, although they have enough to get by on. Neither of Betty's parents were ever stupid about money, for all their deep, profound flaws.

Jughead applied for an internship there, and lasted a whole hour before packing it in.

"They were stupid to ever accept you," says Alice fondly, looking over one of Jughead's articles for the Blue and Gold. "Foolish."

Jughead makes up for his weeks off school admirably, graduating near the top of all his classes - sometimes even top, as Dilton Doiley seems to have gone off the boil over the course of the late spring semester.

The thought of her father's misdeeds tortures Betty. It runs under everything that she does, everything she tries to take joy in. She loses count of how many times she wakes in the middle of the night, rigid with fear and the self-loathing that she knows is illogical. She tries not to wake Jughead, just insinuate herself back under his arm once her breathing returns to normal.

It doesn't usually work. They're too attuned to one another, and he wakes, still until she's ready for him to hold her, stroking her hair gently until she can face trying to sleep again.

It's halfway through the spring before Alice confesses.

"I can't lie to either of you," she says, wringing her hands. Jughead surveys her new, relaxed, pseudo-hippy mom style, the trappings of pretentious New Age beliefs scattered around the living room. He's uncomfortable with the way that Alice has been taken in by this charlatan that Polly's infatuated with. Polly, at least, has always been naïve, and her trauma over Jason has made her vulnerable. It disgusts him, the idea of this Farm leader taking advantage of that. He hates the idea of strong, defiant Alice being taken in in the same way.

"What, Mom?" says Betty tiredly. She's been clashing with Alice this week, with the idea of the Farm. Her summer dress clings to her appealingly, and Jughead should not be distracted by the curve of her hip beneath semi-transparent muslin. It's almost enough to make him wish that he'd never fallen in love, that he'd remained uninterested in the idea of sex and curved hips, soft breasts and wet lips and-

Almost, dammit.

"I'm working with the FBI," says Alice abruptly, shocking Jughead from his reverent admiration of Betty's form. "The Farm has my daughter. I want to bring them down."

It's a long hour of recriminations, of tears and fears and the worry that Alice will fall too far, too fast. A few months ago, Jughead would have been too afraid to argue with Alice. Now, he's definitely a member of their household, who deserves a say in what happens there. More than that, he's afraid for Alice - he's grown more than fond of her, come to view her as a true ally, as someone who wants the best for him, despite her roundabout way of showing it. He wants the best for her too.

"The FBI are saying that they're never successfully managed to infiltrate the Farm, and you're their best shot?" he says incredulously. "Alice, come on! That's too dangerous!"

"It's too dangerous to leave Polly there!" Alice retorts, her eyes glassy with fear for her eldest (second-eldest?) child. "And the twins! If there's no other option-"

"There's got to be another option, Mom," pleads Betty. "You have both of us to look after! Not just Polly!"

"Polly is in danger," says Alice gravely. "Other people's children are being exploited there. If the FBI wants me to-"

"Oh, because the FBI have always had people's best interests at heart," sneers Jughead. "Alice, they can't ask that much of you!"

"They can," says Alice coolly. "And I'll give to them, for Polly's sake."

"Count," says Jughead.

His body has been healing steadily, and Betty's mouth waters as she gazes on his lanky form. Sometimes she gets distracted, just staring at her boyfriend when she thinks he isn't looking. He isn't a peacock like Reggie, or groomed and smooth like Kevin. In fact, while he seems to have settled into a shocked, pleased awareness that Betty finds him physically attractive, he's still either unaware or completely disconcerted by other people being attracted to him.

"I can't imagine being attracted to someone that I'm not in love with," he confesses, after embarrassedly turning down a few offers at a club that Kevin insisted on going to for his birthday. "It seems implausible to me."

Betty wavers between amusement and irritation when other people hit on a clueless Jughead. It's both galling that he's unaware enough to take their attentions as genuine friendliness, and delightful that other people can see the striking beauty in him that others at Riverdale High always seem to ignore.

"Jughead Jones is Betty Cooper's boyfriend, end of," she heard Cheryl saying to some junior Vixens once. "I suggest you find a more likely person to reciprocate your affections."

She wonders what prompted that.

This, this situation that she's in, propped over Jughead's lap with her ass in the air and her wrists tied behind her with a hideous silk scarf (inadvertently donated by a repellent great-aunt), was prompted by a need for distraction It's a desire to get so lost in herself and Jughead that she can't think about Hal, or the impending court case, or her own inadvertent culpability in the murders, or Alice risking her life to infiltrate a cult, or any of the million things that teem around Betty's head.

It's not a substitute for her sessions with Dr Glass. It's something that always turned her on, the idea of having someone take charge of her, just for a while, so she didn't have to be so perfect. She's actually, to her immense pride and shame, mentioned it to Dr Glass, who reassured her that it was perfectly healthy, as long as she trusted her sexual partner, and as long as she enjoyed it.

"Count," says Jughead again, his voice teasingly cruel, and his palm comes down against Betty's skin. The sting is fresh, clean, searing, exactly what she needs. Jughead's hard against her, where she's splayed over his lap, and their glorious, implausible compatibility strikes her nearly as deliciously as Jughead does.

"O-one," she gasps, and his hand descends again.

Mayor Andrews is doing well, riding high in the polls, and that's despite his son's entanglement in a murder investigation.

"I didn't kill Cassidy," Archie insists, as if he needs to convince them. Veronica, incongruously, is clad in her yellow Pop's uniform, and Jughead remembers that his favourite dining place, the home from home where the proprietor looked after him on his very worst days, owes its survival to the spoilt heiress.

Veronica's trying, at least.

"We all know you didn't, Archiekins," Veronica says tiredly, although none of them actually _know_ that. It's part of the problem; none of them followed him out of Lodge Lodge, and they never saw Andre kill Cassidy Thingy at Shadow Lake. They aren't witnesses, so they can't provide him with an alibi.

Jughead remembers Betty holding him back in the lodge, and more grateful for her cool head than ever. He's under no illusions that Lodge would be pulling him up on any crime, if he could.

Archie's confessed that he was tempted to go and threaten Lodge, the night of the election, but was too tied up in the celebration and his girlfriend to bother with the little man at that stage. It must be the loss of unquestioning loyalty that had pissed Lodge off so royally, to have this kind of persecution aimed at Archie.

Archie's seeing a therapist, too, through all of this. Jughead wonders if the calmer changes in Archie are real, or if it's just his wishful thinking. Jughead's tired of being let down, tired of hoping that Hal would accept him (huh!) or FP would really change or Archie will become reliable rather than flaky.

But Archie might be going to jail in a few months. If Mary weren't such a competent lawyer, he might not even have made bail. The light at the end of the tunnel that Fred's election had provided for the rest of them was going to be nothing for Archie, if the trial didn't go his way.

Jughead sighs, and wishes it were cool enough to pull Betty into him. Instead, he settles for stroking her arm gently, trying not to think of the way he stoked aloe over the soft skin of her rear last night, or look at the faintest hints of their play left on her wrists. 

She shivers, and shoots him an innocent look, letting him know that she hasn't forgotten either. This innocence rant from poor Archie is justified, but they've heard it all before. There's nothing more that they can say at this point, and they're going round in fruitless circles. Jughead came back from the dead recently, and only just regained the use of his legs to walk. Sue him if he wants to think about his girlfriend. Everyone else spent years obsessing over sex; just because it's fairly new to him, doesn't mean he's unaffected.

Betty seems just as affected.

Damn, Archie's going to jail, and if Jughead believed in God, he'd be afraid he was going to hell too.

The school year ends without much fanfare. In previous years, the Blossom twins always held a fabulous party at Thornhill (that Betty wasn't invited to, although she longed to be included), but this year, there is only one Blossom twin, and Thornhill is a smouldering wreck that the Southsiders are struggling to rebuild.

They hold the party at Veronica's, in clear defiance of her parents.

"Toni and I are biking across country," says Cheryl, and while she seems brazen, Betty sees the shy excitement that Cheryl tries to conceal. "Down to the West Coast, maybe. Get in the pre-college road trip that some can only dream of."

"That sounds amazing, Cheryl," says Betty wistfully, and she grins at her cousin. "I'm so happy you found someone like Toni."

"All my life," murmurs Cheryl, "I only had Jason to care about me. A wealth of cousins - more than even _I_ knew, it seems - two living parents, and the only ones who loved me were a senile grandmother with her own horrific behaviour, and my twin. Now..."

She casts a longing look at Toni, lounging on the sofa by Fangs, who seems to be gazing at Kevin, who is hanging by Moose, his hands hovering over the footballer like he wants to touch him but can't (and _there's_ a mess Betty needs to talk to Kevin about!).

"I understand it so much better." Cheryl's voice is soft, gentle, unlike anything Betty's ever heard. Abruptly, Cheryl snaps back to her usual self.

"Of course, cousin, if you mention that to anyone, I will absolutely _destroy_ you," she spits cheerfully. "I have an image to maintain."

 _Don't we all_ , Betty muses. Jughead is leaning on the wall near Sweet Pea, no doubt exchanging laconic insults about one another and half the people in the room. He still needs to rest now and then, not used to putting his weight on his legs for long periods of time.

Few would ever guess how Sweet Pea has developed a crush on Josie McCoy, how he longs to escape the Southside, or how Jughead get all fired up about the right thing. Archie seems like a nice, all-American boy, but he was in the Mafia for a while, and Veronica has been completely cut off as an heiress. Fangs' crush on Kevin developed through musical theatre; Moose is heartbroken over the death of his girlfriend, but he's conflicted by his feelings for Kevin.

None of them line up to their images, and as much as Betty once longed to be included at parties like this, she's realised that it really doesn't mean that much to her.

She sidles over, and insinuates her arms round Jughead's waist, under his jacket.

"Hello," says Jughead delightedly. "Are you having fun?"

"Mhmm," says Betty, nosing into his chest. Sweet Pea gets the message, sniggers, and leaves. "Do you want to go home?"

"You tired?" asks Jughead, stroking her hair.

Betty looks up at him.

"No," she says, the word hot in her mouth. That gentle hand winds into her ponytail, and tightens with promise.

"Juggie," she says, thinking of her - their - soft bed, and all the things they could do there. "Let's go home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guys we made it
> 
> i think i will do series 3? it will take me longer to plan, as some of the stuff I've set up here will likely lead to much more divergence down the road, so i might not be back in this au for a bit! but i promise to try
> 
> let's enjoy riverdale while it's still off the air, and pretend that the actors won't have tests shoved up their noses thrice a week so we can watch them make-out on screen


End file.
